The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo
by Stilwater Rundeepo
Summary: It has been ten years since the Clone Wars. Three bounty hunters - Embo, Boba Fett, and Cad Bane - hear about a stash of ten million credits hidden somewhere on Geonosis. Their fates are henceforth intertwined in a game of partnerships, betrayal, and violence - and all the while, rebellion lingers on the horizon. A parody of "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly."
1. Chapter the First

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the First_

* * *

The cold of night had long faded with the rising twin suns.

Red and white painted the large dunes and rocky hills of the Jundland Wastes, tattooing streaks of light as the dawn turned to day.

It was a ghost town, sitting in the pit of a lost valley. Whatever residents there had been were lost long ago to the merciless sandstorms and the heat. And they probably deserved it, too.

At first, there appeared to be two of them. But through the growing mirage, which was rising quickly, a third was cleverly hidden. They waved long metal spears, each unique to his own carrier. There was not the taste of sand in their mouths, nor the blinding white of the twin suns in their eyes. And when their warrior cries echoed across that lost valley, whatever life would have been within a three-mile radius would have, under the blistering heat, froze with horror and dread.

They were Tusken Raiders and the only thing on their minds, currently, was killing.

Ahead of them by about fifty yards, a number which dropped with each second, a fourth figure eyed the approaching group with caution. For this fourth figure, as luck would have it, happened to be pinned between the bottom of a large cliff that constructed half of the valley and the group of Tusken Raiders hellbent on the smell of fresh kill. He had no form of transportation that was between him and either opposition. Anyone else would have decided he was trapped, and accepted his horrible fate. Not to be said of this one.

Since, you see, bounty hunters don't take kindly to backing out of any situation until they are either the last one standing or they are no longer breathing. Especially any bounty hunter who had survived the three-year game of bloodshed and Blackjack that was the Galactic Clone Wars.

The Tusken Raiders were drawing closer, but the bounty hunter did not drop eye contact with them. Then they split their group so that they did not reveal their real numbers. One, leading in the middle with the largest spear and the tallest, was the first to make a move of attack against the adversary.

Suddenly the Tusken let out a scream and he was lying on the ground and he was not moving. Several seconds passed and he dragged himself back up, stabbing the ground with the end of his spear, only to let out another scream and fall flat on his face. The second Tusken was a bit more of a challenge, as he was approaching from the side. The bounty hunter had seconds to switch weapons and use a few deflectors from his wrist gauntlet to throw off the attacker's balance. Had he ducked a centimeter higher when the spear flew for him, he would have been a dead man. Then the Tusken grabbed him, trying to throw him off guard as well, and he drew the blaster pistol at his side. Three shots later, the second Tusken was on his knees with two holes in his lower stomach, using every vulgarity in his native language as quickly as he could before a fourth shot aimed between his eyes silenced him for good.

For a long time, the fourth figure and the remaining Tusken glared at each other through the bright sun and the hot sand. Neither could have shown any more emotion if he were a boulder. As one's eyes were hidden behind metal goggles that blocked out the sun, the other's was partially covered by the front dip of his wide-brimmed hat. The Tusken Raider shifted weight from one foot to the other. The bounty hunter stood his ground, keeping a hand on either holster. His blue skin was charred and blistered to the point where it had lost almost all color; one leg leaned out at a slightly awkward angle.

Then, shouting an ear-piercing cry as the voice of his dead comrades, the last Tusken charged with his spear aimed for the assailant. The bounty hunter drew his blaster and fired it one last time, seconds before his heart would have been pierced by the spear. The Tusken cried out, collapsed, and choked out his last.

With that, the bounty hunter was soon aboard the transportation which the band of three had separated him from, determined to leave this scumhole of a valley. Soon he was gone. And the little ghost town left no trace that anyone had set foot in it, save for three Tusken corpses that would be eroded and dried out by the sand within the week.

The bounty hunter's name was Cad Bane and he had survived the Clone Wars.

Cad Bane had been well aware of the three Tuskens trailing him across the desert. For the past couple days, they had seen his lack of company as an opportunity to take him by surprise, steal the clothes off his back, and then decide whether to kill him, leave him for dead, or bring him back to camp for further entertainment. The merry little chase put a small delay in Bane's trip to Mos Eisley, but it was nothing he wasn't already used to. The Jundland Wastes were scattered with such characters, not all of which were necessarily Tuskens. A necessary annoyance, Bane supposed, for these sorts of trips. At least it acted as a small compensation for the boring stretches.

However, Cad Bane was not aware of an event taking place on the other side of the Jundland Wastes, involving a fellow bounty hunter with far different schemes on his mind other than just making it off of the Outer Rim desert planet with all limbs attached.

* * *

"Sloan?" the bounty hunter asked aloud. He leaned against the doorway of the small hut, crossing his arms. A helmet shielded the smirk spreading across his face.

At the other end of the room, a young boy stood defiantly, daring to look the intruder straight in the eye. His dark hair had turned sandy from the dust storm outside. That morning was regularly quiet on the small moisture farm. So quiet, so still and set apart from the happenings of a galaxy in turmoil, that the loudest cry or the longest scream would not be heard for miles around by anyone. This was a fact that did not escape the young boy, nor his father.

"He's not here," the boy stammered.

"I only ask for ten minutes, if he is not occupied at the moment." When there was no reply, the bounty hunter took a step back. "Tell him that...Jango Fett is here."

With that, the boy turned around and vanished around the corner of the house. The bounty hunter sighed, polishing the barrel of his rifle that was nestled comfortably over his arm, and counted forty seconds before the red-skinned six-foot figure with barrels for biceps appeared. Sloan, whose face was tattooed with age and scars alike, widened his eyes when he saw the figure standing ten feet distance from him.

"You're not Jango Fett. Jango died thirteen years ago."

"You're correct. But how else would I have gotten your attention?" he pressed. As the boy ran the winding staircase, the bounty hunter slowly approached Sloan, taking his time to drag each boot against the gravelly sand floor.

Sloan's Adam's apple bounced up and down as he swallowed hard.

"Don't tell me you're that phony kid of his." Sloan had scarcely finished his sentence when a gloved hand coiled around his throat and slammed him against the dining table.

"Let's get down to business. After all, I only have ten minutes. First..." said the son of Jango Fett, "the name Jackson he's going under these days."

"I don't know anything about that. Tell them the cash was hidden years ago and now I don't know where it is."

"Oh?" He threw Sloan to the ground. "Well, I'm not surprised, come to think of it. But it _is _difficult to find someone if I don't know their name...wouldn't you agree?"

His eyes widened again as he wiped blood and dirt from his mouth. There was no answer, so the son of Jango Fett just crossed his arms and stood over him. He leaned down, digging one bent knee into the man's chest.

"All right..._all right_! Crevil...Bahr Crevil. That's Jackson's new name."

"Good. Now, about that cash box...it's here, isn't it? You took a job at a place like this so you would be close enough to keep an eye on it."

He could tell Sloan felt he was losing the conversation and quickly.

"You'll never find it. It's impossible. And don't think you can get it out of me."

Boba Fett rose to his full height. A hand gracefully glazed over the rifle at his side. As Sloan tried to get back to his feet, a kick in his side made him freeze. After the second kick, Boba Fett drew the rifle and pointed it between his eyes.

"Thank you for saving me the trouble."

Seconds after the shot rang out, the backdoor burst open and someone rushed out. Boba spun around just in time to see who it was. The kid.

The boy had but one instant to uncover the scene and look up at the bounty hunter with horror and hatred before he, too, received an equal shot between the eyes. From the back of the house, Boba Fett heard a woman's scream, but he did not bother to work overtime. He turned and left the house. When he was at a safe enough distance, he pulled out a disk from his belt. Soon, the hologram image of his employer appeared above it.

"I got the name. Bahr Crevil."

_"Very well," _the hologram said in a crackled, old voice. _"Meet me in the usual place. We'll discuss your payment there."_

Boba Fett left the city outskirts in his ship, taking the route himself as the skies faded from the rays of dawn and the coolness of the ground began to evaporate. He was fairly certain that this _conversation _was going to be quite one-sided, and in his favor of course. For he, too, had survived the Clone Wars.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I'm back with a new Cad Bane fic! I'm finally back!_

_Yes, this story is going to be a parody of the Sergio Leone film "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly", starring Embo, Boba Fett, and Cad Bane in their respective roles. I have been wanting to write a Star Wars version of this classic spaghetti western for a long, long time. Part of what took me so long to finally get it started was to decide 1) which SW era to fit it into, and 2) who would fill each of the three main roles._

_You may be wondering, why did I choose to make Embo "the good", and so on? Well, that's why it took me a while to decide, but first things first. I chose Embo to star as "the good" because he seems to be the bounty hunter with the highest moral code, as well as the strongest will to live. Embo was the bounty hunter who took a job protecting innocent farmers from pirates, risking his life in the process; certainly, he was being paid for the job, but I cannot see Bane or Boba doing such work. In addition, I believe his definite heritage as a warrior - some sort of cross between samurai and ninja - has also installed in Embo a sense of honor and something to fight for. Unlike Bane and Boba, Embo has a code to live by._

_I chose to make Boba Fett "the bad" as a nod to the cold, heartless bounty hunter that we knew Boba as in The Empire Strikes Back. Boba Fett is the type of bounty hunter who doesn't want the spotlight, doesn't need glamour or honor, but is determined to stay on top. He will do anything for money, and he has fallen so far that he knows redemption is no longer an option for him. At the same time, I see Boba as having to embrace his father's legacy and his old roots, giving him a sense of belonging. All in all, he is mean, ruthless, and he knows what he wants._

_I really, really wanted to make Cad Bane "the bad" (after all, Cad Bane's design was inspired by Angel Eyes in the first place). But after a lot of consideration I gave him the role of "the sleemo" instead. This is because, just like Tuco from "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly", Bane is completely independent. He is not a member of the Bounty Hunter's Guild nor any other line of heritage or origin. The only person he looks out for is himself. And while Bane certainly has more class and formality than Tuco, they both seem to carry the same mentality that they will betray anyone for money and do not care who gets hurt along the way. Bane has no real moral code, and is as cold as he is ruthless._

_Writing this trio in such a story has been an interesting challenge. For Embo, I've had to take a lot of liberty of developing the character further than we saw in "The Clone Wars" show. For Boba Fett, I made him darker than I imagine he would have been at this stage of his life, but I tried to keep the "young Boba" somewhat alive in some parts - so there is more "Boba" than "Angel Eyes." I also knew I would have to change parts of the story so Cad Bane acts more like Cad Bane instead of the idiotic asshole Tuco tends to be. So instead of totally doing away with the character of Tuco, I sort of mixed the two together. Bane will still be his old calculating, cold self, but I wrote Bane as I like to think he would be several years after the Clone Wars. Here, he is older; so he's seen more, he's done more, he has more scars, more experience. He is less hesitant to verbally express his frustration, and in addition, there are a lot less things he gives a shit about. To put it simply, Bane won't be a dumbass like Tuco...instead, he'll just be a smartass. So in a word, expect a ton__ of badass Embo, dark Boba, and smartass Bane._

_There are also two other things I need to clarify. One, this story is not related to any of my other chapter fics or one-shots whatsoever. Two, i__n spite of that, I am also writing this story as practice for a future chapter fic I am currently outlining. What do I mean by that? Well, this chapter fic is also set in post-Revenge of the Sith...it will have a lot of spaghetti western influences...and three big stars are Cad Bane, Embo, and Boba Fett. And writing them here is helping me plan how I am going to depict them in this chapter fic. Some of the elements I introduce here will be further explained in the chapter fic (for example, how the public viewed bounty hunters who survived the Clone Wars, and the mentality of young vs. older bounty hunters). In a word, I am writing "The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo" as a teaser of some of the things you can expect for the future chapter fic that is on the horizon. __But that is all I can reveal for now._

_Hope you enjoy the read!_


	2. Chapter the Second

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Second_

* * *

Cad Bane grimaced, tightening his grip on the blaster.

_Not this again. For the Force's sake. How hard can it be to get off one stinking planet? _he mentally grumbled.

As he had finally finished repairing his pirate speeder and was ready to get to the nearest city and find his ship, a second wave of attackers had spotted that he was alone and moved in closer. Now he was surrounded. However, these were not like the Tuskens from two days ago. In fact, compared to these guys, Cad Bane was starting to think he would actually _prefer _Tuskens.

They were greens. _Green_ was the nickname given to them by the bounty hunters who had survived the Clone Wars and still had enough life left in them to keep making a living off the Empire's scraps. Bounty hunters like Bane. They had not just lived through the war...they had _thrived _in it. Instead of hiding from the conflict or staying loyal to one side, they took advantage of the bountiful opportunities that came about through the countless passing of power, devotion, and necessities. They saw their chance to rise and find glory in their profession, and that is exactly what they did.

All of that changed when the war ended, and the Galactic Empire rose from the ashes of the Old Republic. Now the Clone War veterans had to deal with a wave of newcomers to the scene of the criminal galaxy. These newcomers were almost always from the bored and troubled youth stock. Kids who tagged along to shine the shoes of some of the deadliest names known to the galactic underworld. They had little to no experience on the job and lived under the mindset that shooting a wompa rat was no different than shooting a man even though they had never pulled a trigger. Anything they _did_ learn, they gobbled up from the legacies that any Clone War veterans had left behind. Which those who _were _offering work for bounty hunters nowadays were more than happy to take, since veterans often carried the baggage of a shady reputation for not always sticking to one side with the utmost loyalty. Instead, the newcomers who modeled after their predecessors, in a twist of irony, were given all the highest-paying jobs. Not for their skill, but for their clean slates, thus leaving their role models to find whatever scraps were left on the table. And that's why they were called _greens_.

Anyone who had been through the war had no respect for a green.

There were three of them, and all were armed with large rifles that would pack a devastating blow. The group was positioned at the top of a low-lying hill, large dunes rising in the far distance. A dry wind filled their mouths with sand and dust.

"There are three of us!" one of them shouted.

Bane snorted. They were out in the open, nothing to hide behind or under, and the green _still _felt obligated to make that clear. Was it the heat of two suns or did he just look that stupid?

"I know, not even a fair fight, but we don't exactly have time to find more of you," Bane said, glancing between the three that were positioned at his seven o'clock, eleven o'clock, and eleven o'clock.

A blast hit the ground less than three inches from his foot. The three greens waited for the older bounty hunter to appear startled or taken aback. He did not so much as flinch.

"Next shot will be at your head. You're wanted dead or alive, and I'm all right with either way," said the third, waving his rifle around like a toy. Hell, he probably _thought _it was a toy.

Bane was just about to start trying to remember how he had been planning to tear apart the first green he got his hands on, when he caught movement at his five o'clock. A fourth figure was approaching the group, who had wandered up the low-lying hill. As Bane turned just enough degrees to get a good glance at the figure, the only thing he could make out was a large disk-like hat and a pair of bright, glowing yellow eyes. Whoever it was, he was _not _with these greens.

"But you don't look like the one who will be deciding that," the newcomer said.

There was a long, dreadful pause, as the three greens darted their attention between the two older mercenaries. Bane was paying more attention to the new stranger than his two pistols which were lying on the ground six feet in front of him. The stranger, meanwhile, raised one arm up and behind his head. The greens pointed their weapons at him, their faces glistening with perspiration.

Bane heard a whooshing sound, like a heavy curtain pulled back quickly. Then the sound of three spinal cords snapping in two in less than one second. When he turned all the way around, he saw that the stranger's disk-like hat was on the ground, its edges wet with blood. Three greens lay on the ground, motionless, all with the cleanest decapitations Bane had ever seen. As the stranger approached him, he kicked his hat with the toe of his boot, sending it high into the air, and he grabbed it and rested it back on his head.

"Nice hat," Bane muttered. For a second he pondered what he could do with a _hat weapon _like that, but then he remembered that he did not like the idea of cleaning an enemy's blood off his chief token.

"Thank you," the stranger said quietly. In a flash, he drew out a crossbow and pointed it at Bane. "Now get on your knees with your hands behind your back, or I won't hesitate to use it on you."

Bane bit his lower lip until he tasted blood, grimacing as he did what he was told.

"Guess I should have been expecting that from the likes of you." He snorted again.

"What was that?" the bounty hunter Embo asked as he unraveled a long rope from his pack.

"Never mind..." He was almost starting to miss those greens, now.

* * *

Every time Embo glanced back at Cad Bane, who was half-lying down in the backseat of Embo's airspeeder, he was still glaring daggers of ice. Embo said nothing as he turned the airspeeder into the back alley of one of Mos Eisley's most notorious black market districts.

"Nice piece of work, you were," Bane muttered.

"You will not be alive much longer. I suggest you choose your words wisely."

"Oh, I will, you bastard. I hope your mother ends up in a two-dollar whorehouse." Bane let out a string of the worst vulgar insults he could think of at the moment, then cut it short when he realized it was not fazing his captor at all. He struggled to regain comfort in his position, but since his arms were tied behind his back there was little he could do but grunt and complain some more.

The local loan shark and overseer of all local activities was waiting for them when Embo pulled up to a black warehouse. He was a dark-skinned Weequay with a bloodstained bandanna; the way he talked you could practically see the credit chips between his fingers. Bane recognized him at once; he was a fellow who had lost a fortune because Bane killed one of his business partners during a raid two years ago. Consequently, Bane could also make a rough estimate as to how he was going to be executed within the next twenty-four hours.

"Ah, so you did bring him back. You kept your word after all," the Weequay said.

Embo climbed out of his seat, facing his client, who stood at least a head shorter. His client's attention was focused on the last reward, and not on the dagger that was so precariously hidden underneath the sleeve of Embo's poncho.

"Now, for the price of the bounty hunter, I'll have those twenty-thousand credits," Embo said. He had a quiet, hollow, somber tone of voice, like the aftermath of a sandstorm at twilight. He dusted off his hands and brushed each shoulder, looking like a politician guilty of blackmail.

The Weequay, smiling, snapped his fingers at three Jawas behind him. One of them held out a black case filled to the rim with credits, which Embo took, opened for one moment, then closed and tossed back into the airspeeder.

"Just like Hardeen," Bane laughed, half to himself, pulling at the ropes around his wrists and forearms even though it was no good.

Embo nodded at his client. Then the dagger appeared. Reflecting the noon sunlight. In a flash it was held against the Weequay's throat.

"What the—what the hell are you doing?"

"Tell them to back away," Embo snapped.

"What? I can't—"

"Do you want to live or die? Now tell them to back away."

Bane arched an eyebrow. Yet another turn of events he had not anticipated from this odd specimen of a stranger. The Weequay stammered out the order to the three Jawas, who ducked back into the nearest building. Embo's face was void of emotion as he took a step back closer to his airspeeder.

"You scum...you came just for the cash. Well, I'll give you a—" He abruptly ended his sentence to dive forward and attack Embo head-on, drawing out a small electrocuting blade from beneath his wrist. Embo pinned himself against the side of the airspeeder. Bane, sensing the opportunity, drew one leg back and kicked the assailant at the base of the neck. His aim was not perfect, but it was enough of a blow to send the Weequay reeling backward. Embo's dagger flew across his client's neck, forming a clean, deep slit through the esophagus.

Two more Weequay ran out of the building, all armed with blasters. Embo grabbed his hat and sent it spinning toward them, splitting the first Weequay's head in half. The hat ricocheted off the building and spun back towards Embo, who caught it just in time, as he landed back in the pilot seat. He slammed down on the accelerator. Blasts from the second Weequay shattered the windshield and the nicked the edge of the airspeeder. As he sent the airspeeder around the bend, down a narrow alley, and into the darkened outskirts of the city so far down they were shielded from the day's heat, Embo maintained as much balance and control as he could muster.

Several minutes later, Embo pulled the airspeeder into an abandoned underground garage, which was only occupied by a broken down cargo lift and an assortment of trash. He beckoned for Bane to sit up straight. Bane held still as he felt the dagger cut away the ropes. When Embo was finished, Bane was ready to spin around and smack him across the jaw; however, he managed to restrain himself.

"What in the hell was that?" Bane demanded.

"As in, my saving your life?" Embo suggested.

"You could have informed me of your little plan _before _we arrived."

"You never would have agreed to cooperate." Embo pointed to the black case. "Ten thousand for you, ten thousand for me."

"Fine...fair enough. It also seems fair that since you brought me here, you're obligated me get me out."

Embo's eyes turned a shade colder, but he did as Bane requested, pulling the speeder out the parking lot and farther away from the main metropolis of Mos Eisley. Within the hour they were back where they started, on the exact same hill where Embo decapitated the three greens. By then, their bodies had already become entrees for a dozen small scavengers. Bane brushed himself off, picked his hat up, and fixed his coat. Embo watched, sharpening the edges of his own hat with a knife. In the midst of the awkward silence, as the pair stared down at the three corpses and waited for someone to tip their own hat, Cad Bane snorted.

"Well, if it wasn't for that ten grand I'd say it was a whole bunch of pointless. Maybe next time you won't keep me in the dark until the last second, eh? Then I just may do a little more than _cooperate_."

"I needed the money as much as you did. And I didn't trust those greens to get it for me, so to speak."

Bane laughed curtly as he kicked a stray rock at one of the corpses. Embo's wavering eye caught him pressing a few buttons on his left wrist gauntlet, but he was finished within moments.

"So, do you plan to do this all the way to the galaxy's core and back? Because if you are, I can provide you with a written list of places that would pay a high sum for my head. Of course, when we're finished, it'll have to be your turn next, seeing as we're keeping things fair."

Embo just shrugged as he handed Bane his due credits. He also handed Bane a water canteen filled to the rim, which Bane drank from thirstily.

"Don't rightly see why not. If you're willing to...cooperate, that is," Embo replied.

Bane did not answer at first. He eyed the stranger carefully, from head to foot, to make sure he did not miss one inch that may have exposed something important. After all, it was not every day that a man agreed to have himself turned in repeatedly by the same bounty hunter. It was never that simple. When he had been silent for several seconds, he finally nodded to show that he and the Kyuzo were in agreement with each other.

"Then let's ride out," said Embo.

* * *

Elsewhere, Boba Fett was lighting up the latest craze in cigarettes, an opium based brand from a Corellian dealer. For the price he paid for it, the brand was quite the bargain. Under one arm Boba held his helmet, while the other was braced against the window sill. The sunlight, albeit indirect, forced him to squint his eyes and narrow his brows. From behind Boba, he heard the shuffling of small, reptilian feet.

"What did you find out?" Boba Fett asked, and he turned to the Patrolian who was making his way out of the back entrance to the bar.

"So here's the story..." the Patrolian began, "three standard years ago, on Geonosis, a unit of Rebels was escorting the cash box to one of their hideouts. They were ambushed by Imperial stormtroopers." He paused.

"Go on."

"So here's the interesting part..._three_ Rebel lives were spared that day. _One_ of those was Jackson. They were all brought to court, and he was the only one acquitted. So he disappeared and now he's going by the name, Bahr Crevil. But, unfortunately, the credits weren't so lucky as Jackson. Now he's reenlisted."

"What else can you tell me?"

"He's living with some young Zeltron whore. Her name's Malani."

"Where is she?"

"In a small town fifty miles out of Mos Espa. Right on the main stretch, can't miss it."

Boba Fett tossed the small creature what he was due and offered a mock salute.

"_Mee jewz ku_," he said.


	3. Chapter the Third

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Third_

* * *

As much as Cad Bane was used to escaping a dangerous situation within half-an-inch of his life, he found it difficult to appreciate Embo's method of waiting until the last second to pull his little rescue stunt. Twice more, and in two other of the black market or criminal neighborhoods of Tatooine's major cities, Embo turned Bane in to someone who wanted him dead, only to cut the ropes and assassinate the lead before they made their exit. Nevertheless, despite Embo's methods, they had still earned twenty more thousand credits before the week was out.

It was the start of a clear, hot afternoon that beckoned an approaching sandstorm when they had finished escaping their third adversary. Bane loosened the ropes a third time, and a third time Embo counted his reward before carefully wiping the blood off the edges of his hat with a cloth. Both leaned against the side of the speeder, looking out to the wilderness beyond. The sandstorm, which they could see fifteen miles to the east, was slowly moving westwards. Before the day was over, it would have covered the entirety of the Jundland Wastes.

Bane should have spotted something amiss by Embo's lack of words. Usually, at such a time as they had made their escape, Embo would have begun making suggestions for their next destination. Instead, Bane was too focused on what he was going to do with his share of the money to may much attention. Currently, Bane was lusting for some strong, ice-cold whiskey, and thinking about how much better he would feel if it were running down his dry throat and warming his stomach. The glowing amber eyes of the Kyuzo standing next to him, thus, were not granted the attention they increasingly demanded.

Finally, Embo broke the silence.

"You know...it's funny."

"What? What's funny?" Bane asked, his whiskey-oriented fantasy interrupted rather abruptly.

"The price on your head has not shot up one credit this week. Not one. At this rate, the expense of escaping and staying undercover will not cover our departure."

"Come again...?"

"I was not planning on walking away with only fifteen thousand. In other words, the sum your enemies have been paying for your head has...disappointed me."

"What can I say? They're a bunch of cheapskates. And anyway, once we get closer to Mos Eisley, I'm certain the prices will be higher there. I'm more of a wanted guy than you think. Your problem is that you need to try practicing a little patience. It's only been a week." As Bane spoke, he watched Embo's every move. Suddenly an ice-cold whiskey seemed as faraway as the Galactic Core.

Embo looked his partner straight in the eye. Just like the time when Embo took out the three greens, he was raising a hand behind his head slowly and steadily. Tension surged in Bane's blood, and his sense of safety dropped rapidly.

"The way I figure...there's not much future for our little partnership," Embo said.

"What are you saying?" But Bane already knew what the answer would be. He was about to back away from the airspeeder to make distance between them. Only at that moment did it occur to him that his blasters were still _inside _the airspeeder. He was forced to stand his ground instead.

"I suggest you run before I change my mind."

"Fine specimen _you_ are," Bane snarled. He swung his fist to the left, but was too slow for Embo. The Kyuzo grabbed his wrist before it reached him and twisted it to the side. Bane, who had been anticipating Embo's move, rolled with the twist which landed him rather roughly into the backseat of the airspeeder. In a flash, Bane grabbed both blasters. By the time he had opened fire on Embo, however, the shield-hat was already up and blocking the assault.

As Bane continued to fire at him, he backed out of the airspeeder onto the opposite side. Then he began to make a mad dash for the bottom of the hill. Bane's boots pounded into the dry ground, kicking up dust that stung like needles against the skin. Embo chased after him, racing at a more agile speed that diverted from the larger clumps of dust. He raised one arm, threw the knife, and barely grazed Bane's shoulder. Gritting his teeth, Bane turned around and faced his attacker head-on. He snarled, forcing back an inward grin, as he made a cutting motion across his neck.

"Come on, do it. I dare you," Bane hollered out.

Embo said not a word, as he did not see it appropriate to speak in such a time as this. After all, he would soon have his half of the credits back soon, anyway.

He reached behind his head to grip the edge of his shield-hat. At that moment, Embo heard a high-pitched whirring sound behind him, like the start of an engine. The inward smile, so called, was now spread across Bane's face like a rash. Embo felt a sudden and incredible force pound him in the middle of his back, and send him tumbling backward as gravity spun in circles, up and around, until he was lying face-down on the ground.

Bane approached him, letting go of his left wrist gauntlet.

"Didn't even hesitate to let me transfer controls of the speeder? I thought better of you."

Embo turned onto his back, feeling several broken bones groan in protest. He let that mull over in his head for a bit. That hit _did _feel like it packed the same impact an air-speeder would. So his associate had had a back-up plan all along as well.

"That's all right. Now I can think better of you," Embo replied.

"Now, are you going to let me be on my merry way, or do you have to learn every lesson twice? It sure would be a bad shame if I had to leave you out here in your condition. It's getting to be late afternoon and the suns, well, they'll wring you out like a sponge. And if you're still alive by then, I'm sure that sandstorm on the horizon will finish off what's left of you. Just lie there and think about what you were planning to do to me, why don't you. Next time maybe you'll know better than to double-cross me. If I decide to let you have a next time. Maybe I'll just sit back and watch you dry up."

Embo took a deep breath and felt something scrape against one lung, like a steel pipe. He cracked one eye open long enough to spit out,

"You talk too much."

"_I _talk—I'll show you who can't keep his damn mouth shut." Bane kicked him in the stomach, and when he grew tired of that, he pressed down on a broken rib or two protruding from Embo's side.

_What a fine partnership _this _turned out to be, _both men mulled over at the exact same time.

* * *

Hours passed.

Kyuzo flesh most unaccustomed to the brutal nature of these bright twin suns had begun to peel, and melt, and burn. A heartbeat that had been bred in the deep, dark, moist climates of a home planet, where the treetops hid the sunlight and the air reeked of an overabundance of water, pulsed rapidly in a world that knew no definition of water at all. A heartbeat that was screaming for a drop of the air it was used to. A mind that had long despised all things with sand, and dust, and a bright, burning light, which was now becoming blindfolded, tossed and turned by all these things and more.

Embo began to speculate any alternate scenario that may have ended him in a place other than this. It had been pure bad luck that landed him on the Tatooine system, and he hated it here the minute its dust had grazed the heels of his boots. Should he have killed the trio of greens and Bane with them, there was no telling how long it would have taken him to earn enough credits to find a way off the planet. On the other hand, if he continued to go along with he and Bane's money-making scheme, Embo had no doubt in his mind that one or both of them would have ended up dead or as he was now. Bane would have figured out sooner or later that they were not making enough to create some sort of mutual profit; the only difference now was that Embo had figured it out sooner. The only question now was how much longer he would last. Embo's vision, although not blinded by the sunlight, was becoming strained. He could hear sounds above him, as Bane helped himself to the water canteen and occasionally nudge Embo in the side with the toe of his boot to see if he was still alive. His arms were beginning to go numb, and his spin felt as if it had turned to shreds of paper. Worst of all, he could sense that the dehydration was dramatically affecting both his body and mind. He tried to collect his thoughts together before the heat would seriously start to affect his logic and rationality, which he knew would not take long.

_I have at least eight broken bones, which means I will be unable to walk. If I do not give Bane a suitable reason to let me live, he will surely see to it that I die here. It is too late to bargain...perhaps. I might be able to make some promise if he lets me live, say, I help him escape the planet._

_ No. That won't do. He would not buy it. If he turns his back soon I could try to disarm him and get away in the speeder, but it's a big risk. There is always the chance that I could distract him and hope some band of Tuskens is out there in the sandstorm; they would take care of him while I make my getaway. But that is highly unlikely, and I do not know if I am physically capable. The longer I wait, the less options I have._

_ I suppose, _Embo at last reasoned, _the only thing I can do now is conserve my energy, wait for an opening, and hope that I make it out of this alive._

_ Yes, hope. That is all I can do._

* * *

As Embo was silently praying what he believed was his last prayer, Cad Bane turned toward the direction of an approaching sound. He listened carefully, immediately attentive. It was drawing closer at a slow, unsteady pace.

"Stay there," Bane said, and he felt rather amused at his own remark as he pulled out his blaster and began descending the hill to where the sound was coming from. When he could see far enough down, he saw what it was. A speeder truck bearing non-Imperial symbols was dragging along the ground. It had been badly hit in several places and looked ready to fall apart at any given second. Smoke billowed from its engines. Dead bodies were hanging out of the exit hatch.

It did not take long for a thought to occur to Bane.

_Credits. They could be carrying credits, or something of value. With that and the ten thousand, it would be more than enough to get me off this dump. I have to find out._

He glanced behind him at the Kyuzo still lying on the ground, suffering dearly from heat exhaustion and broken bones. Bane decided he doubted Embo was going anywhere, so he quickly made his way down the hill towards the speeder truck. When he got there, he pointed his blaster at the exit hatch and called out if there was anyone in there. Only silence answered.

Cautiously, Bane climbed through the exit hatch, stepping around dead bodies that, according to the smell, could not have been dead for more than an hour. Inside, Bane found a small storage compartment, inside of which were various items that must have belonged to the dead men. One was a pouch stuffed with credits, which Bane placed in his knapsack.

"Wonder what the hell they were doing out here," Bane wondered aloud as he continued rummaging around. Then it dawned on him. They could very well be Rebel troops. Killed in some skirmish with Imperial stormtroopers. Behind him, he heard a loud moan. He spun around. One of the bodies was moving. Barely, but still moving. Then the body said something.

"Ten million."

"What?"

"Ten million credits...cash. It's yours. Just get me water."

Bane approached him slowly. He was a red-skinned humanoid, bleeding badly from the head, and lying face-up in the pile of his dead associates.

"What's that you said?" Bane suddenly thought of a better question to ask. "What's your name?"

"My name's Bahr Crevil, now. Surprise attack...stormtroopers came out of nowhere. My name is Jackson, not Crevil."

"Yeah, great to meet you, Crevil. I'm the Galactic Chancellor," Bane replied. "Now what was that you said about the credits?"

"Ten million...all mine. I hid it. It's...the cash...it's safe."

"Where? Here?" Bane gave him a gentle but firm kick in the side. "Talk."

"A cemetery."

"Which cemetery?"

"Geonosis. N'g'zi. Sad Hill. There's a grave by the..."

Now Bane was definitely interested. Ten million credits was a _lot_. And a dying fellow had no reason to make up such a ridiculous story in his last minutes. This was no bluff.

"Which grave? Name, number?" When Bahr Crevil did not answer, Bane gave him another nudge. No way this guy was going to die on him _now_. "Come on, _peedunkey_, talk."

"Not a number...a name. Please...I need water."

Bane stared down at him. So-called Bahr Crevil was close to his death. He needed water, and quickly. Overcome with a sudden sense of urgency, Bane backed out of the speeder truck, keeping his eye on the man writhing on the floor.

"I'll get you water. Don't move." And he ran for the air-speeder and the water canister inside. Bane's focus was so narrowed on fetching the water and deciding what he was going to do with Bahr Crevil once he had the name or number of the grave, that he did not take note of Embo's absence beside the speeder. Bane detached the canister, filled a canteen, and ran back down the hill to the speeder truck. Once there, he saw Embo leaning against the exit hatch holding on with one arm. Bahr Crevil was close to him and had fallen still. A flash of anger surged through Bane and he gave the half-conscious Kyuzo a kick to get him away.

"He's dead..." Embo said quietly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bane snapped.

"I said, he's dead..."

"I've just about had it with you. I should kill you right now," he said, gritting his teeth. He checked the red-skinned humanoid's pulse in both neck and wrist. Certainly dead.

"Do that and you'll never be rich."

"Your opinion isn't worth one damn credit to me. If I were you, I'd—"

"Keep me alive, Bane." Embo rolled back his head and closed his eyes.

Suddenly Bane realized what Embo was trying to tell him. It was a realization which, without a shadow of a doubt, became the worst thing that had happened to Bane all day.

"He didn't tell you, did he? The name on the grave?"

Embo cracked a small smile, drawing a few drops of blood on his dry skin, and then he lost consciousness.

"Oh, shit," Bane muttered, wanting to throw his hat to the ground. Then, recollecting himself, he helped Embo sit up and forced him to some of the water from Bane's canteen. He felt sick to his stomach that he had been so close to being rid of this guy _and _holding the key to ten million credits.

Suppose the large dunes and rocky hills of the Jundland Wastes had a sense of humor today.

Now with a new sense of urgency, Bane helped Embo to the air-speeder. To ease his frustration, Bane began talking aloud to himself.

"You die on me now, well, you'll never hear the fucking end of it. You hang in there...you listening to me? You need me and I need you. Let's leave it at that." He lifted Embo into the back of the air-speeder, stole a final glance at the rotting piece of junk at the bottom of the hill, and then jumped into the pilot's seat. The suns were leaning over the horizon, signaling the end of the another long day in the Tatooine wilderness. A wilderness which beckoned the quiet and the desperate, the loud and the old, and the young and the restless. The sandstorm was coming, and the first wave bent down upon the valley with a long sigh.

"Hey, _pateessa_..." Bane said, "I know just the place where they'll fix you up good. If you don't mind pirates, it'll be the perfect place."

The sunset splattered a brilliant, burning orange across the canyons, watching the pair crawl across the sand with a twinkling eye that slowly sank beyond a pair of dunes, and then it was gone with the heat of day.


	4. Chapter the Fourth

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Fourth_

* * *

A leathery hand pulled back the fraying red curtain, which was riddled with blaster holes and various stains. The ground sagged where heavy boots stepped, approaching the figure reclining in a large leather chair. Perched on the figure's shoulder was a small Kowakian monkey-lizard, which took an unnoticed lap from his rather large glass of wine. His legs were elevated above his knees, and he was staring up at the ceiling through a pair of thick, green-tinted goggles.

"Hey, boss," said the intruder, "a ship just landed in our docking bay. Not ours." Three more leather-skinned intruders approached behind him, standing as a group.

The figure kicked his legs and sat up straight, patting his pet Kowakian.

"Ah, this is perfect! Finally, something to add a little spice to our inactivity! We could be having some rowdy fun tonight, boys." He spun his chair around and activated a hologram panel, which revealed a diagram of the ship which had just landed. When he saw it, he clicked his tongue and folded his hands together, multiple rings clinking against each other. "Oh...oh, my, my, my. This is most interesting."

"Boss?"

"Boys, bring out the rimble-wine. We have a special guest joining us this evening. Let's head out there and give him a most warm welcome!"

And Hondo Ohnaka rose, cracked his back, and waved his hand for the four intruders to prepare his cruiser.

When they had arrived at the docking bay, Hondo Ohnaka leaped out and walked up to the ship, laughing from the back of his throat. The exit hatch opened. At the sight of the unmistakeable wide-brimmed hat, Hondo spread his arms open, like an uncle about to embrace his favorite niece and nephew at a family reunion.

"Cad Bane...! It's been far too long since you set foot on my premises! What wind of misfortune has landed you here into my little empire?"

Bane stood straight and tall, staring down Hondo Ohnaka and his _four, five, six _associates. The bounty hunter maintained a calm stature, although he knew he had to be prepared to shift gears in a moment's notice. One could never tell with Hondo Ohnaka, after all. One second you're the only person in the galaxy he cares about; the next he pulls out the rug and clamps a collar around your throat. _Pirates_.

All this in mind, Bane was quite surprised when Hondo, who knew to be just as cautious as the new arrival, wrapped his arms around Bane and pulled him close in a tight embrace. Bane's eyes widened and he could not breathe. Hondo chuckled and gave Bane a firm slap across the back; Bane winced.

"I...I missed you so much. I have been dying to catch up with you on all your adventures for so long, and then when I heard you were stranded in the Outer Rim..."

"I wasn't stranded. I was just a little side-tracked," Bane protested, gasping for air.

"Yes, but you know me, the only way I am able to keep up with how every little thing is going for you is because of the folks who want you dead. It's a heartbreaking way to go," Hondo said, slapping him across the back again, "and I'm so glad to know you thought of me once you got off that horrible place..."

When he felt Hondo begin to _caress _his hand up and down Bane's back, he pushed and backed away.

"All right, I get it, you missed me. It's only been two months."

"And I'm sure both of us have kept plenty busy since. After all, two months is a long time to..." Hondo glanced over Bane's shoulder into the ship. "I say, did you happen to bring any companions with you this time? I certainly enjoyed the last ones."

"Just one. He needs medical attention."

"Ah-_hah_! I _knew_ you wouldn't stop by just to say hello," Hondo cried, almost disappointed to hear the news. Then he sighed, rubbing a minor headache out of his forehead. "No matter. What's done is done. Boys, let's see what we can do for him. Any friend of Bane's is potentially a friend of ours."

Bane remembered hearing about a previous skirmish on the Felucia system that set Embo and Hondo on opposite sides of the fight, and he hoped the experience was not too fresh in Hondo's memory. Hondo's men took Embo to a separate cruiser and to the medical facility of the pirates' hideout. Hondo and Bane followed behind them, as Hondo began telling of his many ebullient tales of spices and ransoms.

"I say, Bane, how long do you plan to stay this time?"

"Until my partner come around. We have some unfinished business that needs attending."

"Oh, no, no, that is not good enough for Hondo Ohnaka! Now that you are here, you simply mustallow us the pleasure of your company for at least a week or two. And I guarantee it will be better than the last. I have fresh brandy from Corellia, dancers from Empress Teta, and over a dozen fresh prisoners to put to death in my brand new arena. We'll have ourselves a grand old time!"

Bane watched the pirates' two medics begin to work on Embo. He was lying on a flat, cold bed in a large white room which had tables filled with varying instruments. He and Hondo walked past the room, while Hondo was still on the subject of all the brands in his brandy collection he had added to his collection after a particular raid three weeks back.

"You'd better make sure he's all right," Bane warned.

Hondo slapped his back again. Bane wished to roll his eyes.

"Let my medics worry about your friend. Come, come now, you must tell me what you've been up to! Kill anyone I didn't like? Fucked any of my ex's?"

"I don't know, I lost count."

Hondo let out a bellowing laugh as he led Bane to where the other pirates had gathered to prepare for the evening feast. Within the hour, however, Bane made this way back to the room to see how Embo was holding up. He grabbed one of the medics to get his attention.

"Did he speak? Did he say anything?"

"No, he hasn't spoken yet. But don't worry. He's going to recover shortly. Your friend is strong."

Bane wanted to clarify that they were _not _friends, but that would get him nowhere. Instead, he nodded.

"He means a lot to me. I need him. If he doesn't recover..."

"He will. You can talk to him soon. For now, he has to rest."

* * *

Later on in the evening, long after Hondo had busied himself with showing off the expansions on his little empire to the honored guest, as well as entertaining his horde of pirates with music, dancers, and barrels of rimble-wine, Cad Bane found an opportunity to slip away and return to the pirates' medical facility. There he found Embo asleep and lying on the bed; he was hooked up to a few tubes and his torso was bandaged. The medic who was currently checking the computer glanced up when Bane entered the room.

"How is he?" Bane asked.

"He is resting for now. He is going to pull through all right."

Cad Bane lit a cigarette to distract himself from all the negative thoughts swarming inside his head, as he looked down at the Kyuzo lying in front of him. He did not know what the chances could have been of Embo dying before they even made it to Felucia. For that matter, what were the chances that the fellow named Bahr Crevil had lived long enough to give the name of the grave to Embo, but not long enough so Bane could also get the name?

As certain as the brandy on Hondo Ohnaka's breath, it was a funny galaxy that pinned enemy to enemy, stranger to stranger, desperation to opportunity and opportunity to ambition.

It was a dirty, rotten trick of fate.

* * *

Malani hissed to herself as she brushed the dust from the hem of her paper-thin skirt. She lifted her head up just in time to see the band of smugglers pile into the airspeeder and take off into the growing darkness, cackling as they did so. As she made her way back to the shack which they had left her beside, she managed to spit out an insult through her dirty teeth.

"_Chuba karking kung_."

She pulled up her sleeves as she entered the shack. It wasn't much, and was on the edge of town away from the main crowds, but it was for the most part peaceful. As she opened the door and stepped inside, she caught movement on the other end of the dark hallway. It definitely looked like movement of a humanoid creature. She felt a tingle of hope in her chest.

"Is that you, Bahr?" Malani walked down the hallway and into the bedroom. Before she so much as put her hand on the control to open the door, she felt a gloved hand grab a handful of her hair. The gasp of alarm had no time to escape her lungs as she was yanked backwards and into the room. Malani screamed in pain and alarm. When she could look up at who had grabbed her, she knew it was not Bahr at all. This man was about the same height as Bahr, but wore what seemed to be Mandalorian armor. His helmet was covered with a fresh coat of red and green paint, and he was holding up one fist in the air.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Malani demanded.

"Go on talking about Bahr Crevil," the man said, his voice distorted by the helmet into a clear, machine-like hiss.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You said his name. Where is he?"

When Malani did not answer, the man shoved her down onto the bed so that she had to look up at him from a sitting position. She felt sick to her stomach with terror.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"I ask the questions. You talk. Now tell me where he is."

"I don't know."

The man reached for his belt and pulled out an object that had been attached to it. When Malani recognized what the object was, she shuddered. Her thoughts were mingled and she felt a growing panic. Then the man grabbed her by the hair again and began to draw the object closer to her face. Malani cried out.

"Stop! Stop."

"Had enough already?" he asked.

"He left ten days ago to go with his unit."

"Which unit?"

Before she realized what she had done, she spilled all Bahr Crevil had told her.

"Please. That's all I know, I swear," she said when she was finished.

The man drew back. If he was not wearing a helmet, Malani knew she would have seen his eyes looking her up and down, as if lies and secrets were marks on the body that, like a birthmark or a faint scar, could be seen if one was truly looking for them. At last, the man nodded in approval, and Malani could breathe easily again.

She had but half a second to see his right arm draw back and raise the weapon to her forehead, which he only needed to fire once. When the body of the dead female Zeltron had collapsed onto the floor, Boba Fett put his rifle away and left the premises. He had never been a particular fan of the small towns orbiting Mos Espa. He would like to get out of there as soon as possible.

* * *

_Four days later_

_._

Bane had had more than enough of his fair share of Hondo's rimble-wine, and Embo was well on his road to recovery. Within less than four days he was getting back to his normal self. Embo, who through several conversations discovered what had happened since Tatooine and his loss of consciousness, was surprised that it was Hondo who ordered that he be taken care of. Realizing that any faulty decision could end up with either him or Bane or both of them in Hondo's execution arena, Embo decided to play it quiet and safe for the remainder of their stay. He refrained from any words or actions that Hondo may use as an excuse for being offended, something Embo knew how to do well.

On his last day in the medical facility before heading out, Cad Bane visited him to make sure Embo was not going to try anything fancy, such as sneaking off of Felucia while he still could. During his rest periods, Embo set to polishing his armor and resharpening his collection of daggers. As he worked, Bane watched and spoke to him.

"Just so we are both on the same page," Bane warned his companion, "I won't make any sudden moves on you and you won't be turning any tables. We're both going to find that grave and the cash, and when we do, we can either split it like gentleman or hand it all to the last man standing. You can pick which one, because it doesn't really matter to me. You are going to go to the cemetery because you know the name of the grave, and I am going to stick with you because you can't make it by yourself."

Embo looked down at his newly sharpened knife. Bane was right; even if Embo was able to recover at this speed, they could not hang around in Hondo's backyard and wait for Embo's health to fully return. Otherwise, Hondo may become bored and start getting ideas on how to entertain himself with two guests who were conveniently at Hondo's mercy. Also, Embo could not risk going after the money by himself in his condition. That meant his only options were to either desert Cad Bane in favor of a new companion who was more trustworthy, or go along with Bane's plan.

"I agree. Very well. We go to the cemetery." After giving it some more thought, Embo added, "As to whether we split or fight for the whole will depend on much."

"Cross that parsec when you get to it. For now, let's ditch Felucia. I have already prepared the ship for take-off. Hell knows what'll happen if we stick around a place like this for too long."

Embo put away his knives and began to suit up in his armor again, feeling some ache in his side but much better than a few days ago. He was about to remark that his previous experience with Hondo Ohnaka would not prove Bane incorrect, but once again he did not say anything.

When Embo was ready, the pair quietly slipped away as the other pirates were either sleeping or on patrol, and boarded the ship which was destined for the in search of Sad Hill Cemetery.


	5. Chapter the Fifth

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Fifth_

* * *

Boba Fett found himself staring with a sort of breathless wonder at the horizon of Geonosis. The natural structures in the distance, made of nothing more than rocks, would easily pass as buildings to a quick glance. The dirt from the ground, red and rusty and reminding Boba of dried blood, was streaked across the heels of his boots and against his helmet. A hot gust whipped against his cloak and rippled over his vision for a moment before it passed on by.

The only sound was that of the young bounty hunter clenching his fist until he could feel his fingernails drawing blood from his palm. The ground, indeed, reminded him of blood. Boba remembered when he had been to this same planet before just over a dozen years ago, and the landscape had taken his breath away as much back then as it did now. Somehow, it had seemed more beautiful and majestic the first time. Now, not as much. In fact, the last time he had been on Geonosis, he...

No, he was not going to think about that today.

Back in his ship the _Slave I_, the body of a stormtrooper lay in a coffin which would preserve him until such a time as Boba would be able to dispose of him. In return for the stormtrooper's noble sacrifice, Boba Fett had donned himself in the white-plated armor outfit. Now, in addition to his identical appearance to that of the stormtrooper's, nobody would be able to tell the difference between them. That is, as long as the bounty hunter in disguise gave himself a haircut first. Which, of course, is exactly what he had been doing up until he was finally satisfied with the result. Now, after hiding his ship in a place no one would be able to find it, he gave the Geonosian landscape one last survey before quickly departing to rejoin with the stormtrooper's unit, which was currently stationed at the local Imperial camp.

Memories were surfacing of Geonosis on Boba Fett's mind, and above all, he refused to let himself go there. He refused to remember what had happened the last time he was here.

And all that had changed for him so suddenly on that day.

On Geonosis, there were too many things to dwell on. Too many ugly tastes that filled his mouth and his eyes. No...it would be better not to think about any of them, and not feel anything at all. He could not afford to dwell on such thoughts.

Not now, anyway, when ten million credits were at stake.

* * *

Embo had never particularly liked the idea of going to Geonosis, to be quite frank. Yet, he was wise enough to keep all negative thoughts to himself which would serve merely to break the silence in the ship. The ship had landed at the coordinated spot Embo and Cad Bane had decided on as their place to start making their way toward the Badlands of N'g'zi, and the Kyuzo bounty hunter was still not feeling quite back to where he was before.

He was currently mulling over what remained of his options once they found Sad Hill Cemetery and, consequently, ten million credits in cash. If he was fully recovered by then, his chances of killing Bane were much greater. However, that was not to say Bane did not still have a trick or two up his sleeve, since that was exactly the type of thing Embo overlooked last time they had disagreed on a course of action. In addition, Embo had to consider whether it would be wise to bring any extra allies with them along the way, such as local workers or cheap mercenaries. They would potentially complicate the problems, but they could also prove to be quite useful. For example, Embo could keep Bane distracted with keeping the workers together and later killing them once the money was found. That would give Embo more time to take the money for himself and kill Bane. On the other hand, they always ran the risk of having any allies turn against them.

What Embo finally had to decide was if he would be satisfied with remaining at peace with Cad Bane, and thus walking away from this opportunity of a lifetime with only half of what both of them were expecting to get. Embo could get along just fine with five million credits, of course. He was not a selfish man...never could afford to be one, come to think of it. Even if he was walking away with only half a million credits, he would not have felt any sort of disappointment.

The problem was how unsure Embo felt that Bane would see it the same way. Which, naturally, would make matters come down to who was walking away with ten million credits, and who would be left to rot in the dust.

At the moment, Embo's partner was opening the back storage of the ship, which housed a large assortment of weapons. Embo occupied himself by filling a water canteen from the large container near the storage. Bane opened a hatch to reveal a collection various rifles.

"Take your pick. What do you want? Sniper? Full-auto? Pistol? I got plenty to choose from." Bane glanced down at Embo, who was still sitting in the co-pilot's seat and looking out with invisible disgust as the Geonosian horizon. "Come now, don't be shy about it. Ain't rightly going to let my best partner venture off into the N'g'zi with just some kitchenware, can I?"

Embo sighed, feeling distracted.

"My knives and bowcaster suit me just fine. Thank you for asking."

"Not against a Geo, they won't. You don't mean to tell me you've never messed with those things? Knives won't do no good against the ridges protecting their limbs and vital organs. A bowcaster, maybe, if they don't surround you, which is their best tactic. Two distract you from the side and the front, and another takes you from behind, hoists you up with their wings, and drops you so fast you break both legs." Bane hesitated as if he were already becoming bored with his own story, and he shook his head. "Last time I was here, I saw half a dozen drag some Phindian idiot into their hive. Legs and arms broken, intestines trailing behind him, still screaming for help. A goddamn idiot. You understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

"Well, in that case," said Embo, "I will be sure to reply your call for help."

Bane snarled.

Embo knew he had convinced his partner there was no taking his bowcaster or knives away from him. Embo _had_ been tempted to throw one of the knives at Bane and deliberately miss his head by inches, just to interrupt his boasting, but Embo mentally talked himself out of it. Instead, he watched the landscape carefully as they walked down the ramp of the ship. They stood on the ledge of a small plateau which dropped down into a rocky plain. Cad Bane swung a rifle over one shoulder and pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars. He began to scan the horizon for the first geographical sign that would point them in the direction of Sad Hill Cemetery. The cemetery, which was located at the bottom of a long, deep canyon, would be impossible to get to by ship. Their safest bet would be to land as close as they could and make the rest of the journey on foot.

As Embo looked out to the treacherous, hot land that lay before them, Bane made a sound from the back of his throat.

"Something the matter?" inquired Embo.

"Company." Bane zoomed in with the macrobinoculars, leaning forward slightly. "They're not Geo's, that's for sure. Humans, mostly. Hard to tell who they are."

"Perhaps I should take a look."

Bane ignored him, focusing on the small group, who were nearly half a mile away and were approaching them. Embo could only assume this group, whoever their allegiance belonged to, had seen their ship land and were heading over to investigate. It made Embo slightly uneasy to think that, on a system filled with vast wasteland and a population that lived in underground hives, such a group would just happen to notice their ship. It seemed disturbing, even. Just as Embo was about to reach for his bowcaster, Bane practically shoved the macrobinoculars in Embo's chest.

"Fine, go ahead."

Embo nodded and looked through them without a word. They were most definitely Humans; a few were possibly other near-Human species. However, their clothes were so filthy and covered in such a way that it would be difficult to tell how many of them were Human. There were about a dozen of them, and they walked in three rows. At least half of them were visibly armed. Embo zoomed in closer, and he caught a symbol embroidered on one of their ponchos. With that, he handed the macrobinoculars back.

"They are of the Rebel Alliance. Half of them look like greens."

"Shit," Bane spat. "Now I'm almost starting to wish they were Geo's instead."

"If they are Rebels, they might have a nearby base. Or they might be on the run. If the latter is the case, we carry a great advantage."

"Oh, and what is that?"

"Rebels will take anyone who isn't for the Empire. Neither of us have bound loyalties. Let's give the Rebels our friendship in return for a plentiful sum or some help in getting across the N'g'zi."

"And what if they don't take kindly to bounty hunters?"

"To be honest, they don't seem like the type of group who would be prejudiced to us."

Bane was silent in thought for a moment. Then he said,

"All right. Just because I'll suffer as much as you do should this plan fail, I'm going to have to trust you." He readjusted his rifle sling and gestured down the plateau. "Let's cross our fingers and shove off."

By the time they were down the plateau and approaching the group, the distance had decreased to less than a quarter of a mile. Embo let one hand gently rest over one of his knives which was hidden in a pocket of his belt. Meanwhile, Cad Bane let his arms hang at his side with his gaze focused straight ahead at the group. The ground felt scaly, and the air was thick with kicked-up dirt. The sky was the color of bones, and the sun was the eye of the skull, watching over them.

When the group was fifty feet away, a voice shouted out at them.

"Identify yourselves!"

"Mercenaries," Embo replied. "And are you with the Rebel Alliance?"

There was a small pause, then they heard the same voice shout back,

"Affirmative! We are Rebels!"

"Good to know," Cad Bane said. "We have a score to settle with the Empire."

"That's what we love to hear," said the same voice.

Cad Bane and Embo found themselves face to face with a collection that looked like it had been scraped up from the bottom of the lowest, seediest barrels of the galaxy. A collection scraped up, thrown into a Rebel camp, and provided with weapons with which to put the last of their brain cells to use and take out whatever ideas of vengeance or vindication were on their little green souls. Embo turned to his partner and saw him fighting to hold back a groan, and that was the first time Embo wondered what Cad Bane would be capable of should he be find the opportunity to take out his real disgust for greens on one rather unfortunate representative of them.

"That your ship, isn't it?" another member of the group asked.

"That's right. We've been chasing after an Imperial officer and tracked him here. The Rebel Alliance will give us a reward for the job, but we're in it for more than just the money," said Bane.

_Oh, goddamnit it. He is starting to get carried away, _thought Embo as he listened to Bane continue.

"You see, we both have a score to settle with this particular officer. His company ransacked my weapons supply like it was free candy. As for my partner, they shot his girl. So, any enemy of the Empire is a friend of ours."

The head of the group grabbed the edge of his poncho bearing the Rebel symbol, which he pulled away from his torso to reveal armor that had turned a dull, pale red with the dust, but had possibly once been a shade of the coldest of white.

Embo's heart sank.

"Well, then...it is even better to hear that you two are friendless here."

The other dozen members pulled away their ponchos and other outer garments as well. All wore the same white armor that was stained pale red.

"Drop your weapons. Then raise your hands and get on your knees."

Embo was about to try throwing his shield-hat as a means of decapitating two or three of them, but they caught his movement quickly. They raised their rifles and made a circle around the pair, leaving their disguises to whither away on the ground. With that, Embo dropped his hat, tossed down his bowcaster, and went to his knees.

Out of the corner of Embo's eyes, he caught Cad Bane shooting him the most cutting of glares, as if to say,

_"How was I to know they were goddamn stormtroopers!"_

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_If you have seen the original film, you might notice I sort of reversed the roles of Bane and Embo in this chapter...that was intentional. This is because I feel like Embo would be the one more likely to want to form an alliance, while Bane prefers having as few allies as possible. After all, Embo was willingly working with other bounty hunters to protect the farmstead from pirates, while Bane only likes working with other bounty hunters if he's the one in charge._

_Also if you've seen "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly", you know what is going to happen to Cad Bane in the next chapter..._


	6. Chapter the Sixth

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Sixth_

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_This was a very difficult chapter to write, so I asked a fellow writer to do the more grueling parts for me. She refused to show it to me until it was completely finished. So thank you friend for saving me the tears..._

_By the way, never ever listen to "Un Bel Di" from Madame Butterfly while reading or writing this sort of stuff; it does things to your brain..._

* * *

An hour later, stripped of their weapons and ammunition, Cad Bane and Embo found themselves walking into an Imperial POW camp. Stormtroopers pointed rifles at them from either side as well as the back, with the leader of the squad at the front. Embo's hat had also been confiscated, as well as Bane's duster. Defenseless against the Imperials, they had had no choice but to surrender.

The Imperial camp was of reasonable size, although not too large. There were at least three hangars which housed ships and vehicles of transportation, as well as a dozen barracks to house prisoners with half the number housing troopers. As Embo and Bane were led to the nearest building, the squad of stormtroopers broke apart leaving only a remaining five and the captain escorting them. Inside, the two were searched a second time for weapons before being brought in front of an Imperial officer, who sat behind a cold metal desk. His outfit certainly added to the vibrant atmosphere of the camp. Against the backdrop of a brilliant red Geonoisan sky, the black, white, and grays filling the camp were most relaxing on the eyes.

"Identification," the officer sighed, like his only job in the entirety of his career was to utter the word.

Cad Bane let out a small scoff. He could see Embo bristle, but he could not care less.

"Is there a problem?" the officer asked in the exact same tone of voice.

"Almost insulting how one has to go about actually identifying himself these days."

"Perhaps that insult can work both ways."

"I'm Embo, Kyuzo. My partner is Cad Bane, Duros."

At that, the officer arched an eyebrow. Bane tried to glance behind him to see how their escorts would react, but it was difficult to see much of anything beneath all that white armor. They were gripping their rifles a tad tighter, though. This pleased Bane. By now, it was basic common knowledge that a decent handful of rogues and mercenaries had brought more than one Jedi to his knees during the Clone Wars. And since whatever remained of the Jedi were now enemies of the Empire, anyone who had killed a Jedi was fundamentally a legend. Thus, the more the war became an experience of a past rather than a present generation, the more one began to see odd things in various corners of the galaxy...such as a mob of teens wearing a knock-off design of your choice of hat, or a home décor store selling a metal print of your old wanted poster. And other crazy shit of the same sort. Some could even be considered celebrity status among the greens who modeled after them, which ironically gave the greens more credit than they deserved.

However, whether such common knowledge would work in Bane's favor while they were stuck in an Imperial POW camp was another matter entirely.

"And what was your business on Geonosis?" the officer curtly inquired.

"Personal. We have license not to release information about our clients or their reasons for hiring us," Cad Bane replied.

The officer sighed. He had a dull, tired look in his eyes.

"Hand over any credits, communication devices, medical supplies, and other miscellaneous items."

Embo had but his comlink to turn in, which he did. Meanwhile, Bane emptied his knapsack, laying all the contents on the counter in front of the officer. Then he disconnected and took off his wrist gauntlets. The officer glanced over the items, but he seemed satisfied enough with the results. With a wary glance, Embo noticed a pouch full of credits included in Bane's pile of goods...a pouch which, Embo remembered, had been stolen from the transport on which they found Bahr Crevil before he died.

"Very well," the officer finally said. "Take them to the barracks and see that they are handled appropriately. I want to avoid as much violence as necessary in this camp, and I'm sure we can achieve some sort of cooperation from you two. Is that much clear?"

"Yes, quite clear," Embo said quickly. As they were led out, he glanced behind him as their items were scanned by the officer's datapad.

It occurred to Embo that there was a strong chance Bahr Crevil's credits had been marked. Which meant that anyone else who was also looking for the grave in Sad Hill cemetery would be led right to this very camp. For his own sake, however, Embo did not mention a word of this to Bane, who seemed more occupied with plans of premature escape than he did their current survival rate.

* * *

Elsewhere in the same camp, Boba Fett was about to don his stormtrooper helmet and join the others in the training facility, as he was now working undercover as their company commander. Before he did, he noticed an update in the prisoner roll call. A simple little trick from hacking into the camp's data entry software had made these updates available to Boba Fett through his com. He pulled it up to glance at the names of the two new arrivals. As soon as he did, he felt as if he had been socked in the stomach.

What a strange coincidence that should land his old rival in the exact same camp.

Boba noticed another name too—Embo. He recalled that the last time he had been in temporary alliance with the Kyuzo bounty hunter, Embo had betrayed them when the methods used by Boba's team supposedly violated Embo's personal sense of honor. And as for Cad Bane, Boba still tasted deep bitterness over how their previous alliance had ended. Cad Bane, once his close mentor and partner in the trade...now the rival Boba would give anything to see knocked off the top of the hill. Both men were veterans of the war. Part of _the old breed_, as the younger bounty hunters of the day had dubbed them. And it just so happened that Embo had arrived at the camp the same time Cad Bane did.

Here Boba had been hunting for his old rival for years, seeking to even the score between them. And now here he was, unarmed and helpless. It was so good and so easy, Boba practically felt obligated to let the opportunity slide in favor of a higher risk confrontation in the future. And he might have done just that, had the roll call officer not entered the commander quarters datapad in hand.

"Permission to enter, sir, an update on the new prisoners," he said.

"Granted," Boba replied calmly and clearly.

"Here is a list of the items we found on them, sir." The officer handed him the datapad, then clasped his hands behind his back as Boba began to look over the information. As Boba read every note the officer had jotted down, a name suddenly popped out to him. He read it again to be sure. And at that, he was socked in the stomach a second and final time that day.

"Are you certain these credits were marked?" asked Boba.

"Quite certain, sir. One of them was carrying a pouch of credits that, according to the scan, were marked by a Rebel soldier under the name of Bahr Crevil."

_This means either Embo, Cad Bane, or both, were in contact with Bahr Crevil before we lost his trail, _Boba thought. _So they, too, know about the ten million buried somewhere here on Geonosis._

It did not take the young Fett long to call in the troops under his command. When they arrived, he stated the names of the two prisoners.

"Bring them to me for questioning."

As he waited for his troops to return, Boba took a seat in the nearest chair. Now it was only a matter of how much the two would be willing to talk. Boba needed to think of it in less of the logical sense and more of the psychological. If Embo had backed out merely for moral purposes before, there was no reason he would back out on his word now. Getting Embo to break would be like trying to split a star system in half. But Cad Bane had no direct code. And a bounty hunter's code was his core; without it, they could crack given enough pressure.

* * *

Embo was concerned as to why they were being brought in so soon. They entered the officer's quarters, to which they were taken to a back room that immediately made Embo realize what was about to happen. Just by the room's smell, lack of decoration, and the lone bright light hanging from above, he knew.

Even when Embo knew fear would get him nowhere, chills still ran up his spine. Someone _did_ know they had come to Geonosis for the cash. The question was, who?

The company commander, who was waiting for them inside, approached Bane and Embo. There was a pause. Then he said,

"The Kyuzo and I need to speak alone. Keep the other one outside."

When Embo and the commander were alone, the room fell dead silent. Embo could hear the drops of sweat trickling down his neck. He remained calm and steady as he looked into the dead, skull-like helmet of the commander, cold and lifeless and stainless and brutal.

"Bahr Crevil," the commander blurted out.

Embo wanted to jump, but he did not. Instead, he stared unblinking.

"Does the name ring a bell?" he added.

"What's it worth to you?"

"It's the name that's led you here, hasn't it? No coincidence we would find you on Geonosis, where the cash is. You two might have made it past us without a trace. But you were sloppy...you dropped marked credits right into our hands."

_Damn you, Bane, you credit-loving sleemo. I hope you end up as nexu chow, _Embo thought angrily.

The company commander paused and glanced away, as if thinking over something that had nothing to do with Embo. Embo could only pray he knew what was on the trooper's mind.

"But you know more than that about the location of the cash, don't you?"

Suddenly, it dawned on him.

_This isn't an Imperial commander. This is someone else in disguise. Someone going after the cash._

Embo could only think of one person who would have made it this far going undercover as an Imperial...

"I will find out myself," Boba Fett answered for him.

For a moment, Embo thought he was talking about the Kyuzo prisoner, and then it occurred to him who was really on Boba Fett's mind.

But, facts were facts. As long as Bane did not know the name of the grave, the money was safe. It was as simple as that.

Embo was led out of the room, and Bane was escorted in his place. Bane looked over his shoulder at Embo.

"What's going on?" Bane asked.

Embo did not say anything.

* * *

The room was large and cold and dark. Two guards on either side of Bane made him stand in front of the commander who stood directly under the light. Then the commander took off his helmet. Although he appeared to resemble any other trooper who was once better known as a _clone _trooper, a particular facial scar or two triggered Bane's memory.

"Boba? Is that you? Well! It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has," Boba replied with the same level of bliss in his tone of voice. "It sure is good to see an old friend again. Especially when we have so much to talk about."

"Do we, now?"

"So, it seems you found Bahr Crevil in the desert, didn't you?"

"My partner told you that?"

"Your partner didn't need to say a word. I'm curious...was Crevil dead or alive when you found him?"

Bane said nothing. He looked away from Boba, who was now standing before him like he had complete control over everything that was happening in the room.

"What did he tell you about the money? I suggest you start talking."

In that matter of seconds Bane had nearly forgotten about the guards at his sides.

"You've changed, young Fett. You get down to the point. I like that about you."

"And I like how you don't." Boba cracked his knuckles before donning the trooper helmet again. He made his way over to a table against the wall. He stared down for a while at the assortment of tools, apparently trying to make up his mind. Then he shrugged his shoulders and put on a pair of leather gloves, which fit tightly around his hands. "I don't like to get them dirty," he said. He beckoned the two guards to back away. Then he stepped forward, making a fist with his right hand.

"What do you think you're going to do?" Cad Bane snorted.

"I know your kind. I know you. How you break. But I prefer getting things started the old-fashioned way," Boba Fett answered.

The next second, Bane felt hard, tightened knuckles slam into his face, and he was knocked to the ground. His vision went black for a second or two. Then the whole left side of his face began to throb. Bane shook his head a bit from the collision, but he was not terribly hurt. When he gave his bottom lip a little lick, he detected the rusty taste of blood. An amused smirk spread across his face.

"Is that really the best you can do?"

To which he realized it was not an appropriate question to ask.

A helmet concealed the look of disgust on Boba's face as he proceeded to repeatedly kick Bane in the side. Bane grabbed for the leg of one of the troopers, who in return shoved him into the middle of the floor. Pain exploded in his ribs at the first kick. After a few more kicks, Bane felt and heard a distinct crack inside of him. His eyes shot open and he felt sick to his stomach. He felt blows to his side, his back, and his jaw. Bane tried to scoot back to avoid the blows but found that the troopers were preventing so. When Boba had kicked him upside the head and Bane froze on the floor, Boba stopped. The two troopers helped Bane get up, after which Boba delivered a sharp punch to his mouth. Boba hesitated long enough for the prisoner to catch his breath.  
"Now then, you know you don't have to go through with this. Give me the name of the cemetery now and be done with it."

Bane spat blood.

"Go to hell."

With that, Boba Fett stood up, looking down at the prisoner through the helmet with disdain. When he walked over to the table of tools and picked up a rusty whip, Bane felt a lump form in his throat. One of the troopers tore off Bane's tunic and the other shoved him against a wall so that he was facing away from them.

"This is your last chance," said Boba. After a long pause, he let out a small sigh. "All right, then. I have all day."

Bane shut his eyes, bracing himself for what it was worth. He heard Boba raise his arm over and behind his head, and a high-pitched whirring sound filled the air before white-hot pain exploded on his left shoulder. He split his lip to hold back the scream. The same thing happened again, then a third time. Bane was fighting so hard to hold back the screams that it left his entire body trembling. Then he felt the strike two times more quickly. He opened his eyes to see blood splatter the wall, and he felt dizzy.

Boba Fett drew it down again, harder than he had used it before. That was when Boba finally heard the scream of agony he had been waiting for, and after that Boba found it impossible to stop with the blows which descended faster and harder, not even when he watched as the prisoner was no longer able to stand up and was forced to collapse on the floor, trembling and writhing every time Boba brought the weapon down. He paused, waited for a word or a name to fill the silence. When he heard nothing, he began again.

Boba stopped when and only when he felt soreness beginning to develop in his shoulder. He blinked and stared at the floor, which was drenched. His helmet was dripping. Below him he could only hear pitiful gasps and whispers.

"I...I don't..."

"Oh, for Force's sake, Bane, don't mumble at me..." Boba knelt down and drew a small knife, which he pressed against one of the deeper cuts. He slowly began to peel the skin back, carving a slanted T shape. A thrashing hand tried to stop him as a loud scream drowned out the silence in the room. Then Boba heard him scream,

"..._Sad Hill_!"

"What about the name of the grave?"

"I don't know..._I don't know_!"

Boba turned to the troopers and snapped his fingers. With a grimace, he took off his pair of gloves, which by now were covered with blood, and tossed them back onto the table.

"That might help. Get this one out of there and bring back the Kyuzo," he said to them.

They scooped up what was left and dragged it back outside.


	7. Chapter the Seventh

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Seventh_

* * *

Embo was waiting outside when he saw them drag out his partner. Or at least, what was left of him. The two stormtroopers tossed Bane onto the back of a military transport, which also housed a few other prisoners. Even though it was not the first time Embo had seen that sort of physical damage on a sentient being, a slight wave of nausea hit him when he saw what had been done to his partner. Boba Fett had literally flogged the life out of him. Where flesh had not been cut deeply, it had been torn out altogether. Embo had to second-glance to be certain if Bane was even still alive. His bloody, mangled shoulders were still rising and falling with each breath, but barely.

Then the same two troopers took either side of Embo and said the commander had requested his presence a second time. Embo glanced back to see his partner cough up blood and then appear as if he lost consciousness, and Embo had to wonder if he would ever wake up again.

Back inside, a bucket of warm water had been dumped onto the floor. Even so, it was still quite a mess. Embo forced himself not to swallow as he looked down at Boba Fett, still in his trooper gear, with armor less white than before. Bane's hat and duster were lying on the table.

"If I treated you the same, do you think you would talk?" Boba asked.

After giving it some thought, Embo replied,

"No, probably not."

"That's what I thought. A Kyzuo warrior is trained since birth to keep his lips sealed, in any given amount of suffering. Isn't that right?"

"...yes, it is."

"Apparently, Bane did not know the name of the grave where the cash is buried. If he did, he would have already told me. He _did _claim that you know the name."

"If I did, what would you have me do?"

"How about we make a little deal?" asked Boba. "If you lead me to where the cash is, we can split it evenly."

Embo glared down at him. Supposing Boba had a trick up his sleeve. There was no telling if he would not just kill Embo as soon as they found the cash. At the same time, though, there seemed to really be no other option for Embo. It was either risk his life, and the cash, or rot away in the camp. He did not need long to make his decision.

"I accept your deal."

Boba Fett stood up and made a signal to his troopers.

"Good. Then let's get moving. I am tired of this place."

Embo did not answer. Now more than ever he did not want to say anything that might be offensive. Of course, it was not as if Boba Fett was the only one with a trick up his sleeve.

* * *

When Cad Bane came to, he felt very lightheaded. He shook himself and sat up, only to be met with pain everywhere from his neck down to his waist. He bit his lower lip as he took in his surroundings.

"Oh, good, look, he's finally back," someone said next to him.

Bane glanced at the speaker. He was a young fellow, a Human, shackled by the wrists and sitting crouched against the corner of the interior. He looked a bit young to be taken captive by the Imperials. In which case, he was most likely one of those greens.

"Where the hell are we?" Bane asked. There were four others inside, and all appearing to be in the same state.

"They're taking us across the planet to another camp. When we get there, they're going to line us up against a wall and shoot us for crimes against the Empire," another said, an older fellow.

"That's dandy, seeing how I didn't do shit," Bane muttered. He tried readjusting to make himself more comfortable, but with a terrible wince realized that was not a good idea at the moment. He glanced down to discover he was wearing a fresh tunic, and blood that had soaked through on the shoulders had long since dried. That could only mean he had been out for at least half a way. By the time he had found his bearings and could stand up on his own, Bane already had a safe estimate of the type, model, and map of the transport by surveying the layout of their surroundings. A few small modifications here and there, plus the hum of the engine, were mostly what gave it away.

"It's not like we can escape," the green said. "If you do, they'll just catch you and kill you then. We're going to be dead by tomorrow, anyway."

"You asked you? That's right, no one did. You think I haven't been in worse situations than this?" Bane gave the green a shove, which stung the backs of his shoulders, but he did not care. "You fucking greens are all alike. You think you're all guns and glory one moment waving your bloody banners and shit, and the instant getting wise can't save you, your tail's between your meatless little legs." Frankly if Bane did not have more important things on his mind at the moment, he would have loved to strangle the green.

On the other hand, his escape plan could always do with a body shield.

* * *

By the time Boba Fett and Embo had arrived at _Slave I_, the Kyuzo bounty hunter had figured out what Boba's true intentions were. Boba, in fact, had five other bounty hunters under his command who had been waiting for them outside the camp. Embo, as he had expected, did not recognize any of them. There was a Weequay, a Human, and two assassin droids. Bossk, the Trandoshan, stayed close by Boba's side, guarding him like a wolf. Bossk had also been allowed to don Cad Bane's hat and duster, which he wore with great pride and enthusiasm. Within minutes of being introduced to the group, Embo realized all of them were fairly skilled in marksmanship and handling explosives. All were dangerous enough so that Embo had right to be wary of their every move.

It was a good move on Boba Fett's part. It only confirmed Embo's suspicions that when it came down to it when they arrived at Sad Hill, only one man would be walking away with ten million credits. That had been the plan since the beginning. There was no other way around it. Even with Bossk's fierce loyalty to Boba Fett, even that much could change when it was down to the two of them and that much cash on their hands.

This made Embo frighteningly aware of how much of a burden he would be the group the very second he revealed the name of the grave. After all, it was this information alone that made him valuable and currently held his life on the line.

_Slave I _soon arrived at the checkpoint which Embo had made clear would lead them closer to Sad Hill Cemetery. The checkpoint, as Embo and Bane had discovered while they were plotting charts days ago, turned out to be the site of an evacuated village. The village had once housed primarily Humans and other humanoid species, all Rebel refugees from a nearby Rebel base that had been taken by the Empire. What was left of the village was little more than whatever the Rebels had left behind when they scattered for the deserts. Most likely, they were now either being shot down by Imperial scouts or being dragged below ground by the locals.

Boba Fett lead the group into the main street of the village. Explosions sounded in the distance. Probably taking out the last of the Rebel base.

"Let's separate and see what we can find here," Boba said to them. "Meanwhile, I will pinpoint the coordinates of the cemetery."

Embo began to follow Bossk across the street, which was littered with what the Rebel refugees had left behind. This consisted of mostly scraps of food and vehicle parts, along with the occasional family heirloom that had been left behind. Droids and speeders that had been disintegrated or torn apart by the detonations littered the sides of the road. The air reeked of thick smoke and ashes. The Kyuzo glanced behind him at Boba Fett, who had taken off his helmet and was still standing in the cockpit of _Slave I_. In front of him was a holomap of the Badlands of N'g'zi with coordinates to the Imperial camp and the group's current location. As Embo and Bossk entered a nearby empty cantina, Embo happened to glance down and notice a small animal hiding in the debris. It was a young feline creature, not much more than skin and bones, who had already seen more than enough kicks and dirt in its short life. It let out a pitiful _mew _at the passerby.

Embo was suddenly reminded of an old animal companion of his who was killed only a few years ago. With a small ache in his throat, he scooped up the little creature and placed him on the metal plate covering his shoulder. Bossk glanced back at Embo, letting out a loud snort when he saw the feline. He cackled something about being soft, but Embo paid him no mind. What with Bossk's new choice of outerwear and headgear, Embo found it difficult to take the Trandoshan seriously, seeing how he had only joined the group long after Cad Bane was gone.

Dust that had been kicked up still filled the cantina they entered. The place had been constructed in haste, as was made apparent by the wooden boards for a roof and the tables and chairs that were a jumbled mismatch. All had obviously been taken from various ships or forms of transportation. What had not been toppled over in the previous panic was badly scratched or burned. Chuckling, Bossk made his way from one table to the other. Most of them, which had been deserted in a hurry when the Imperials began to attack, still had unfinished glasses of liquor and even some food. Tough, stringy meat and stew, for the most part, but still food. The Trandoshan began to gulp down every glass he could find, and stuff the food into his mouth with loud smacking of the lips.

Embo watched with disgust as beer, whiskey, rum, and combinations thereof dripped their way onto Bossk's new duster and across his mouth. Instead, Embo hopped over the counter to see what had been left behind of the cantina's stock supply. He took one large flask of beer and placed it in his knapsack. The little creature purred as Embo stroked its back. Suddenly, it dawned on Embo that Bossk had stopped with his feasting and froze solid where he stood.

"Is something wrong?" Embo asked.

"You didn't hear it?" the lizard growled. "There's someone in the next building down. I heard him."

"I suppose that means you'd best go find him."

Bossk wiped his mouth, scooped up his rifle, and ran out the doorway. Meanwhile, Embo decided to wait exactly five minutes before following him.

* * *

Bossk clamped his claws down on his new wide-brimmed hat as he ran down the street. His companions were roughly fifty feet away, playing with a badly wounded Geonosian who had wandered into the village. He listened as they tossed it by one of its broken legs, quickly became bored, and then impaled it on the Geonosian's own spear. A family-sized speeder had broken down in the middle of the street; the backseat was stuffed with containers filled with fresh food, ammunition, and other essential supplies. The Trandoshan chuckled again, deciding he would come back to claim all of it as his own as soon as he tracked down the remaining refugee. The thought of what could have happened to the family to make them abandon such goods was amusing in of itself.

The next building down was a string of several small homes connected together by hallways, much like the hives that the locals lived in. Before he walked in the main entrance, Bossk paused to listen, and make sure he had not imagined the sound.

From inside, he heard a distinctive _click _of a weapon being loaded with a new round. Beneath the surface was a string of various curse words and the continuous sound of a fabric-like substance being peeled off a bacta strip. With that, Bossk slipped through the open doorway as quietly as he could. In front of him was a staircase leading to the second floor and a hallway with several rooms on either side. He took the stairs, gripping his rifle tightly.

About this time, unbeknownst to him, the Kyuzo bounty hunter was already behind him, and watching his every move closely and from a safe distance.

The Trandoshan heard a second _click_, then a _clang _of metal against metal.

He crept closer, every muscle in his body tensed.

* * *

Downstairs, Embo braced himself with one knee against the floor. He gently set down the little creature, who sat beside him contentedly. Embo let it drink from his water canteen as he held still and listened to Bossk tread across the floor above them, creeping closer to the sound coming from the end of the upstairs hall.

He began to hear Bossk speaking, as if below his breath or in anticipation of something. Embo could not tell if he was talking to someone else or to himself, but whichever the case, the sounds had stopped immediately. Embo braced himself, ready to draw his bowcaster or a knife if the situation called for it. Bossk's low growl and the subsequent lengthy chuckle unmistakably belonged to him.

Even though he was not making any movement or sound, Embo felt that he should hold his breath. For he practically jumped out of his own skin when he heard a loud gunshot above his head. What followed were words spoken by a voice Embo recognized all too well. And quite frankly, a voice he was convinced he never would hear again.

"If you're going to shoot, shoot. Don't talk! Understand?"

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_ Hey guys, quick question. Would you rather see me write the original ending of the story from the movie, or take my own twist/cliffhanger sort of ending? I'm close to wrapping this story up, but I am not sure how I want to end it. Any answers would be appreciated; thanks!_


	8. Chapter the Eighth

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Eighth_

* * *

_ This will indeed demand an explanation, _Embo thought.

He heard scuffling on the second floor. Meanwhile, he decided he would use a different approach than the rather unfortunate Bossk, who he now knew was either dead or severely injured somewhere up there. With that, Embo bid his small feline friend farewell and good luck. Putting away his bowcaster, he exited the building. On the outside he discovered a pipe winding its way up the side then making a ninety-degree turn at the base of the second-story window. The pipe was less than two inches in diameter, but Embo began to climb it carefully. He braced his feet against the wall, pushing off wherever a brick stuck out or had been chipped away. When he reached the window, he could see most of the village around him, as well as _Slave I _positioned only a few blocks down. Boba Fett's henchmen were scattered around, plotting out their coordinate points and scrounging for anything the refugees had left behind, which was far more than would fit in _Slave I_.

Embo hoisted himself up and slipped inside the open window, allowing him into the room the opposite direction from which Bossk had entered. The party guilty of giving his identity away by speaking to his attacker stood in the room, his back conveniently to Embo. He was rolling Bossk's unmoving body onto its back and kicking off the wide-brimmed that had originally belonged to him. In one hand he held a stormtrooper's blaster pistol, and in the other a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

Embo realized his partner had not heard him and was not about to turn around. He let out a little whistle. His partner spun around, startled half to death.

"It appears you're still alive," Embo said.

Bane stared at him. He was obviously shocked and did not understand how Embo managed to sneak up on him, much less find him in the first place. Then, Embo watched as Bane mentally connected the dots in his head. Why the Kyzuo would be here, why he was following Bossk, and what sort of business should bring them back together. When Bane finally appeared to have it figured out, he cracked a wide grin.

"Embo...nice to know you're alive and well. You seem all right. They weren't too hard on you, were they?"

"Oh, no. I just knew before you did that talking wouldn't save me."

"Well, aren't you the boy scout. Unlike you, Fett holds a few grievances against me that I've never been particularly inclined to reconcile. Naturally Fett felt inclined to reconcile a few by sending me to the firing squad." Bane looked down at the Trandoshan, whom he began to strip of his clothes. Beginning with the hat, of course, which he donned with a look of renewed dignity and pride Embo had never seen before.

"How did you get here?" Embo decided to ask.

"How did you _think _I got here? I goddamn escaped." But as he began to put on his old clothes again, Bane could not resist elaborating on his simple explanation. "I jumped off the back of the truck and used one of other prisoners as a body shield. Fortunately, he died only a few seconds after we landed. From there it took less than an hour to work the handcuffs off, find me a blaster, and sneak a ride over here. In fact, come to think of it, I was doing pretty well until your friend walked in and interrupted me. Too bad he didn't know when to shut up."

"Yes, he was not one of few words," Embo said, secretly speaking of more than one fellow who was present in the room.

"Anyway, enough of that. I imagine you're here with Boba Fett, too, aren't you? Either that or he owed you something awful big."

"No, you're right. We agreed that if I took him to the grave where the money is, I would get half the payment."

"You know what will happen as soon as he knows the name of the grave, don't you?"

"I do know," said Embo, "and Fett also has several henchmen to back him up." He froze, standing perfectly straight. One hand carelessly looped over one of the daggers. Bane glanced down where Embo's hand rested, and then his smile spread even more.

"Looks like we're even now, doesn't it?" Bane remarked, pulling on his duster.

Embo nodded.

"Got to say, it will be nice having an old friend back by my side. Besides..." To finish, Bane took Bossk's rifle and slung it over one shoulder, still holding on to his stormtrooper blaster. "...it wouldn't be any fun to go the rest of the trip alone."

"Shall we start two buildings down, with the assassin droids?"

"Lead the way, pal."

With a second nod, Embo descended the stairs. He gripped the edge of his shield-hat and steadied himself as he exited the building and began making his way down the crippled, littered street. Sure enough, two buildings down, the assassin droids were doing away with a small handful of stragglers who had not escaped with the rest. Embo beckoned for Bane to not move. He waited until he heard the droids open fire; then, with the loud sound of the blasts as cover, the pair sprinted down the side of the road until they had arrived at the building. The back wall had been torn down and left a wide open gap. Embo sneaked to the front all, signaling Bane to go to the back and step out into the open when it was time.

Embo stepped to the side, drew back his shield-hat, and sent it spinning toward the two assassin droids, who were standing side by side. One had but a moment's notice to glance behind him before the impact cut them off too late. The edge of the shield-hat made a clean, sharp cut as it sliced the droids' heads off in one sweep. As soon as Embo's hat had embedded itself in the opposite wall, Bane stepped forward with his rifle and shot both droids square in the chest to finish them off.

Bane seemed please with his work. He smirked to himself as he quickly checked the two droids to be certain they were shut down permanently, as well as glancing over the bodies of the shot stragglers.

"Nice shot," Embo said curtly.

"Not half as bad yourself. Maybe once all this is over you can show me how to wield one of those things."

"There are still two more to find, as well as Boba Fett," Embo said. He did not like the idea of teaching _anyone _how to use his shield-hat.

Suddenly, they both heard a loud clash from outside, and a shout.

"What's going on over there!"

"It's them," Embo hissed. They quickly ran out the back entrance of the building into a wide, dark alleyway. Dead bodies and crates full of bad goods had been pushed against the sides, and the rest left to be stamped on. Cad Bane turned to the Kyuzo, balancing the rifle against the front of one shoulder.

"Embo? Is that you!" the Weequay was shouting.

Bane cocked one eye and shot Embo a glance that meant everything Embo predicted it would, and he remembered what Bane had said about grievances to be reconciled, and he knew that when the time came, he would put as much distance between himself and Bane's idea of reconciliation as he physically could.

"You can take care of those two. I'm going after the young Fett."

"Well, of course," Embo replied with a small shrug, and that being said, he watched Bane sprint out of the alleyway in the opposite direction, his cold gaze set straight on _Slave I _in the distance. Then the Kyzuo reached for two of his daggers and braced them between his palms and index fingers.

He ducked before the Weequay could shoot at his head, throwing one of the daggers. Embo looked back up in time to see the blade penetrate itself through the Weequay's neck, and the Human hesitated long enough to give Embo the opportunity to move in closer so that he could attack him head-on with the second dagger. Although the Human was able to block Embo's first attack, he was not so lucky with the second. As the Human collapsed, his neck broken, Embo mercifully finished off the Weequay so that he would not have to choke to death on his own blood. With his job done, Embo quickly left to find his partner.

Secretly, Embo had been expecting to find Bane holding the young Fett at gunpoint. Considering how Bane was still recovering from his injuries, Embo figured he would have to help Bane in disarming Fett, which he was not entirely against. What Embo had not expected to see was Bane staring, frozen stiff, at a small datapad left lying on the ground where _Slave I _should have been.

Even then, Embo could not resist letting a sarcastic remark fly by.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Shut up," Bane snapped.

Embo walked up to the datapad and glanced down at the written inscription. When he did, he looked away with a glance.

"He will be after the cash. Since he does not know where it is, he will need us to find it for him," Embo said thoughtfully. "So we should be careful."

"Son of a bitch," Bane was growling under his breath. "I was careless. I should have waited until it was safer to go looking for him. I got caught up in catching him, and he took the chance to slip away. Dammit. _Dammit_! I was that close!" In a fit of anger, Bane sent the datapad hurling away with a strong kick, which ignited fresh pain up his back. Embo chuckled as he saw Bane wince and hug his stomach.

"I wish you would be more careful," said Embo.

"Let's just get out of here. There's got to be a ship around here somewhere."

Embo followed behind, forcing back a small smile as he felt a hope he had never expected he would feel when they had come this far. A hope that, when the time came, it would not come down to that he would have to kill his partner for all ten million credits. A hope that by some chance, they could part ways in peace when all of this was done.


	9. Chapter the Ninth

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Ninth_

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_If you've seen the original film, you'll note that there is a part of the story that I am leaving out for this parody. This is because I find it would not fit the characters I have chosen to the point where I would have to change things around a lot for it to fit. In the end I just scrapped it altogether. If you haven't seen the film, well, you won't know the difference anyway._

_There are only a couple chapters left in this story, so stay tuned! It's going to be exciting!_

* * *

Boba Fett was cursing under his breath. His gloves creased as he tightened his grip on the controls of _Slave I_. The ship made a sharp turn as it made a close dive for the canyon, from which Boba took a glance at where the location of the cemetery may be.

He mulled over what he had seen seconds before he made his last-minute escape, leaving his pack behind. It was enough...all of them by now were, most likely, dead. Embo's trust had been wary from the beginning, although Boba had not predicted such betrayal so prematurely.

It did not matter. He would be at the cemetery in minutes. Long before either of them...

All at once, the ship gave a loud shudder that jolted Boba Fett out of his thoughts. Immediately he saw a trail of smoke following behind _Slave I_, which was thickening by the second.

_Dammit! What the hell?_

Quickly, Boba tried to regain control of the ship, but it was already too late. He felt the main engine sputter, collapse, and give out, and gravity sent him plummeting to the vast desert below. Boba grabbed his emergency pack, his rifle, and slammed on the eject button. The thrusters from his jetpack lifted him out of _Slave I_'s cockpit just in time, and when he looked down he could only watch as the crash shook the earth, kicked up ruin and sand, and left a billowing pit of fire buried deep.

_That was Embo's doing. He planted some sort of timed bomb in there beforehand, and I neglected to notice, _Boba thought. In spite of just losing his precious ship, he found himself chuckling behind the helmet. _So he was planning to betray us all along._

Then again, what else could he expect from a guy like Embo?

As he lowered himself to the ground, Boba got a better view of the damage done to _Slave I_. It was not beyond repair, but he would have to leave it behind if he wanted to make it to the cemetery before them. With that, Boba gripped his rifle and set out for the canyon. He bit down a string of curses under his breath, tasting the hot dirt of Geonosis that leaked through the helmet.

_Embo, I promise I am going to kill you for what you did to my ship._

* * *

Meanwhile, Cad Bane and Embo watched as the silhouette of a ship buried itself on the horizon not a few miles off, kicking up a ring of sand and flames. Bane, who recognized the ship as belonging to Boba Fett, turned to his partner.

"That wouldn't happen to be your handiwork, would it?"

"Actually, yes."

Bane laughed quietly. Embo figured it was because any time Bane could see the young Fett suffer in some way, it did not matter who was the cause of it.

"I figured," Embo explained, "that if he had five following his orders, planting a bomb would even the score. In some sorts."

"Well, thanks a lot, Embo. You've made a day a whole lot better just for that. That should delay him a good couple hours. Let's go find ourselves a way out of this place, huh?"

It did not take the pair long to find a speeder on the outskirts of the village. It had been left behind by the refugees during their escape, its nose buried in a mound of sand and rubble. However, both of them knew it would get them to the cemetery with time to spare. The day was not so young anymore, and Geonosis' lone sun burned hot and bright. As they began to mutually work on firing the speeder up, Embo heard his partner make a small remark. Normally Embo would have ignored Bane at such a time, considering how just about anything out of Bane's mouth would be complaining how things had turned out for him. What he said, however, caught Embo's attention.

"Hey, Embo...seeing how we're both up against Boba, now...don't you think it seems fair that we tell each other what we know about the location of the money?"

Embo paused in his work, turning to Bane, who leaned over the side of the speeder in an effort to pull it out of the rubble. He was trying his best to keep his upper body still save for the elbows down.

"What good would that do?" Embo asked. Not so much that he could not answer the question, but he needed to know how Bane would answer it.

"So we know we can trust each other." Bane shook a finger at him. "You already turned on me once, and I don't want to have to go through that again. It'd be better for us if we know we're both going to walk away with a fair share of the money. Not only will it make matters less complicated, but it means there's a lesser chance of Boba taking all the loot for himself. Wouldn't you agree?"

Embo had to think about it before he replied. He could not put his full trust in Bane, he knew that much. But Bane had just as much reason to trust him.

"Yes, I agree."

"Exactly. So I'll tell you the name of the cemetery, and you tell me the name of the grave. Does that seem fair enough?"

With a final pull as the speeder was freed from the rubble, Embo shook himself and nodded to show he agreed. Then he set to pulling the remainder of rubble, trash, and other items out of the cockpit seat. Bane brushed the dirt off his hands carefully. He did not say much for the next few minutes.

"You should go first," Bane finally said.

Embo wanted to laugh, but he forced it back with a smile.

"No...I think it would be better if _you _went first, Bane."

"So you still don't trust me, is that it?"

"No, but I'll let you earn my trust. Go ahead."

Bane growled, gnashing his teeth. As Embo waited for him to say something, he looked down without one blink or shift in his amber yellow eyes. Bane's glare turned to a cold menacing gaze.

Embo felt like he had waited quite a while before Bane finally blurted it out.

"The name of the cemetery is Sad Hill. Now, your turn."

"All right," said Embo, and he considered carefully as to what he was going to do next. When he realized there was a clear, obvious option waiting for him, and all it took was a simple choice of words, Embo felt he could breathe much easier. He even stopped thinking about his daggers or his bowcaster which could be drawn in a moment's notice. Instead, he made his slow way to the nearby body of a young refugee who had been taught in an explosion and had been dead for under an hour. Embo found a nearby shawl in the pile of rubble, and he covered the body with it. Behind him, Bane began to twitch impatiently, switching the weight of his new rifle from one arm to the other. When Embo's brief moment of silence had ended, he stood up straight, turned around, and said, "The name on the grave. Aren Sacul."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm positive."

Cad Bane grinned. Out of context, Embo may have described his expression as _giddy_.

"My good friend, Embo...we're going to have the time of our lives when we find that money. Then we'll be halfway across the galaxy before the day is out." Then Bane walked a short distance away to another body lying on the ground. Embo watched as he studied the body up and down, as if trying to decide if it carried valuables. With a shrug, he moved on to the next one.

Embo, who now knew he would not have need for any of his weapons for a time, could relax and take a long drink from his water canteen. He planned to save the liquor for later.

"So, Embo, tell me, because I'm curious. What are you going to do with your share of the money?"

"_Do_? I'm not sure," Embo answered, seeing no reason as to turn down a conversation with his partner.

"Come now, you wouldn't have gone to all this trouble just to go after something you're not even sure what to do with when you get it. Surely if you've come this far you've got to have some idea."

Instead of surveying the wreckage left behind by the stormtroopers, as Bane was occupied with, Embo began to busy himself with cleaning the blood off his daggers. He sat down on a wooden crate next to an Imperial laser cannon, which was positioned roughly twenty feet from the speeder. Bane's footsteps covered a semi-circle around his Kyuzo partner, as both contemplated in the back of their minds the fact that the sun had but a few hours left to hang above their heads before the nightfall would set in.

"Fine. You're not sure, then you're not sure," Bane finally said when Embo did not say anything for a long enough period of time. "I have a clear idea of what I'm going to do with my share. After I get off this planet, I'm going to buy a new starfighter with all the new bells and whistles they're coming up with these days. Then I'm going to make several additions to my weapons stash. Stock up on all the upgrades, you know. Then I'll buy four packs of the most expensive cigars I can find, and to wrap it all up, I'll drink all the whiskey I want before heading out to bring back Boba Fett's head as my own."

"I do admire that you always have a plan. So you intend to even the score with Fett," Embo remarked. He found it quite freeing to be able to speak in full honesty to Cad Bane from time to time.

"Of course I intend to. What made you think I would let him get away with what he did? I was going to be shot by a damn firing squad." As if to prove his point, Bane winced as he slung the rifle over his shoulder. "Anyway, once that's through, then I'll use the rest of the money to find a nice place to bunk down and hide out. Somewhere no one can find me or will think to go looking for me. Things can be peaceful and quiet for a change, and I can smoke three cigars a day and have a drink every evening and it won't hurt me. Not too expensive, but not too shabby. And I'll stay there as long as I need to. With that kind of money, I could pull it off without any worries."

"Good ideas. All good ideas," Embo said, nodding his head thoughtfully.

"You know what wasn't such a good idea, though, Embo?"

"Oh, what?" Embo glanced up to see what Bane meant. But he already knew.

Because when Embo looked up, it was too late. Bane, during Embo's focusing on cleaning the daggers, had covered the distance between him and the speeder with painful speed. Embo had but an instant to see Bane sit down in the driver's seat of the speeder and shoot him a second grin described out of context as _giddy_.

"Trusting me. Bad idea, my friend."

And with that, the speeder left behind a cloud of dust as it took off for Sad Hill Cemetery and a stash of ten million credits buried in the grave of Aren Sacul.

Embo sighed. Just as he had predicted.

As he rubbed the dust of out his eyes and coughed, he glanced down at the laser cannon sitting right next to him, and then he knew exactly what the next part of his own plan would be.


	10. Chapter the Tenth

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Tenth_

* * *

Cad Bane was closing in on a hundred feet distance from the edge of the canyon, on the bottom of which he knew Sad Hill Cemetery was waiting. The village was almost a mile behind already. At that moment, he made the mistake of glancing behind him at the village, just to see what Embo was planning. As he discovered, trusting Embo had not been such a hot idea either. He saw the blast from the laser cannon coming a split second before it hit him.

The blast struck the airspeeder's left engine with such force that the airspeeder flipped ninety degrees, until it was dragging along the ground vertically. Bane, unprepared for the blast, was knocked out of his seat. He landed on the ground face-up, and the airspeeder's acceleration sent him sliding backwards several feet before he slowed him to a stop. By then, Bane was already screaming from the pain in his back. When he could finally speak, he shouted at the top of his lungs,

"Embo, you son of a bitch! You karking-goddamned son of a bitch!"

Gritting his teeth, Bane rolled over onto his stomach. He looked up in time to see the speeder struck again in its right engine. The laser cannon fired a third and final time, detonating the last of the speeder. Bane covered his face so he would not be hit by any debris, and as he waited for the detonation to subside, he wondered if he should hold still and wait for Embo to come and finish him off anyway. But when the sand cleared in the air, Bane realized the canyon was not even fifty feet away. Walking distance. He could still make it in time. Slowly, he braced himself on his elbows and began to drag himself up, clenching his fists all the while.

"Embo, you bastard, bastard, _bastard_..."

But bounty hunters don't take kindly to backing out of any situation until they are either the last one standing or they are no longer breathing. Especially any bounty hunter who had survived the three-year game of bloodshed and Blackjack that was the Galactic Clone Wars. So he braced himself, stood up, and made his way to the edge of the Canyon, from which he found the little-worn path leading down to the bottom. Cad Bane ran with all the strength he had left. The other two would be closing in, and fast, but the grave of Aren Sacul was waiting for him when he made it, so dammit, he was going to see it through to the end.

When he stumbled and fell and thought it would be too hard to make it to the bottom and find the grave, Bane had to get the picture in his head fresh and clear again. Ten million credits. All he ever wanted paid for if he could just get the money. It also helped to think of what Embo or Boba Fett would do with ten million...new ships, for sure, and new weapons, and an extra dose of a revenge killing spree on the side. Couldn't have that. So Bane got up after every time he stumbled and fell, and he pressed on deeper and deeper into the canyon.

By the time the path opened up to the bottom, where rocks piled up on most sides and debris and the bones of corpses had been left behind over a period of years, the sun was starting to lean towards the west. Bane was exhausted and felt that he had used up the last of his energy. He spat out a mouthful of dirt, wiped the perspiration from his face, and looked up to try to see where he was. That was when he saw it.

There were dozens of them. Hundreds of them. Hundreds of graves covering a plain that stretched half a mile on either side, looking out to the towering walls of the canyon surrounding it. Hundreds of graves that formed rows and rows of rings that all centered around the empty circle in the middle. Graves that were days young and graves that were years old. Graves of Imperials and graves of Rebels and graves of locals and graves of the unlucky and the unfortunate.

Suddenly Bane found his body filled with a renewed sense of energy, because the money was _here_. He was so close to it he could already feel the cold credits between his fingers, already hear them singing in his pockets, already smell those expensive cigars and see his brand new starfighter in a hangar bay.

So he headed for the first row of graves and began to run, scanning each marker with the name Embo gave him. Before he realized it he was running faster and faster, even though he had previously assumed he was all out of energy. Names surrounded him on all sides, but none were the name he was looking for. Running faster, breathless and desperate, Bane refused to stop or so much as slow down before he found it.

He felt feverish with excitement. Desperate to find it first and find it fast. It was _here_, and he was so close to having it all for himself. When he stumbled, he was quick to pick himself up again and keep running. When he was out of breath, he slowed down just long enough until he could pick up his pace again. With no weapon to hold his guard save for one remaining blaster, no allies or friends to watch his back, and only a ground to keep him standing and a sun to keep him burning, the last the bounty hunter could do was run onward through the cemetery, and hope he would find his fortune.

Yes, hope. That was all he could do.

Then, in the maze of names, something popped out.

_Aren Sacul._

He skidded to a stop, for there it was.

Bane could hardly breathe as he approached the grave, making sure the name was correct. It said _Aren Sacul _all right. Then Bane winced as he realized he should have thought to find and bring a shovel from the village. There had been too many variables and dangers on his mind to even think about what he was going to do when he actually found the grave. At least it wasn't the first mistake he had made that day. With that, he got on his knees and began to dig with his hands. To pass the time, Bane tried imagining Embo using his own hat as a shovel and Boba using his helmet, a thought which amused him greatly. In several minutes he had dug enough so that he found the top of the coffin in which Aren Sacul was buried. The lid was made of wood, and if he dug deep enough he would be able to pull it out.

Before he continued digging, however, Bane hesitated. Both Embo and Boba Fett would have plenty of time by now to also make it into the canyon and through the cemetery. They could be very close. Bane looked up and around him.

Sure enough, he could see two dark figures in the distance, and they were approaching from opposite sides of the cemetery. One was on his left, and one was on his right. That was when Cad Bane realized that if he tried to take on both of them, he had no chance of escaping alive. Whoever he chose, he had to choose fast.

He stood up and took several steps back as Embo and Boba Fett drew closer to the grave. Boba's face was hidden with his helmet, which had suffered severe scratches and dents courtesy of his ship's crash. Embo's shield-hat blocked the sunlight from hitting him, and only his glowing eyes revealed his attentiveness.

Embo reached Bane first, carrying a shovel under one arm. Without a word, he gestured down to the grave of Aren Sacul. Then he tossed it at Bane, who defiantly refused to catch it and let it land at his feet.

"Go ahead and dig."

"I ain't digging for nobody."

"Then pretend you're digging for yourself." Embo glanced in Boba's direction, who had reached the cemetery. "If you want to live, I suggest you hurry."

"What? What are you planning to do?"

"Just, do as I say. _For once_."

Bane just hissed, but he snatched up the shovel and began to dig. He decided to use his own anger at Embo as fuel to work as quickly as he could. As he dug, Embo leaned on one leg and watched as Boba Fett drew closer and closer to where they were. Embo made no hesitation to make it vividly clear to Bane that he had thought to arm himself with a pistol before he headed for the cemetery.

By the time Boba was within twenty feet of them, Bane had already uncovered the lid of the coffin. All it would take was one kick and they could grab the money and run.

"Good job," Embo said, his glowing eyes still focused on the Fett.

"If you're going to shoot me, just get it over with already," Bane replied.

"Yes, Embo. Why don't you save me the trouble and get it over with already?" Boba asked, who was also carrying a shovel. Bane did not like the fact that he was the only one of the three who forgot to bring one. "Even better, why don't you both start hauling that money out?" With that, Boba drew back his cloak to reveal that his blaster was already pointed at both of them.

Bane froze, knowing there was no way he'd be able to draw his own weapon and fire before Boba nailed him. But Embo, who began to lean on his other leg, just shook his head with a long sigh.

"See, that's the problem."

"What problem?" Boba snapped.

Embo kicked off the lid, revealing the contents of the coffin. Bane's eyes widened.

"Because there's no money in there," Embo finished.

Both Bane and Boba stared down at the rotting body of the man they knew was Aren Sacul. Not one credit ship was inside the coffin. Save for the bones, it was completely empty. No one said a word. Then Bane clenched his fists.

"You _bastard_. You lied to me."

"You thought I would trust you?" Embo looked ready to roll his eyes.

"I told you the truth!"

"Use your head, Bane," Boba interjected, "Embo already knew the name of the cemetery anyway. He just played dumb to get information from you."

"Shut up!" Of course, Bane knew Boba was completely right, which is why he wanted Boba to be quiet.

Meanwhile, Embo picked up a stone and, with his knife, made a few markings on it. Then he walked to the empty circle in the middle of the cemetery, where he laid the rock on the ground. Boba stole a glance at the Duros as if for an answer to what Embo was doing.

"On this stone, I wrote the real location of the money," Embo said.

Bane slowly backed away from Boba, taking one step at a time. Boba nodded. Then he tossed away his shovel, leaving himself armed with only the pistol at his side.

"So that's how it's going to work, is it?"

"That's exactly how it's going to work," Embo replied.

Cad Bane said nothing. He was focused on Boba's right hand positioned just above his holster, as well as Embo's own weapon. As he took more steps back, Boba stepped to his right, and Embo to the left. They continued in this way until the stone with the name of the grave was in the middle, and their positions formed a triangle shape around the object. Embo, the head of the triangle, eyed both of them with not so much as a blink, although his eyes were bright and burning more than either bounty hunter had seen them as before. Boba, helmeted and standing rigidly, glanced between the two of them every second or so. Finally, Cad Bane bit his lower lip as he strained to see the two figures silhouetted against the sunlight, and held his hand inches above his own holster. No one said a word, and there was not a sound from miles around.

Boba kicked a bit of dirt behind him, which landed directly in the open grave of Aren Sacul. Embo watched him, looked to Bane, and lifted his chin for a split second. Bane narrowed his brow and tried to breathe.

The Geonosian sun had begun to lean toward the west, and shone down for one last grand finale of the day before the rise of nightfall, and what a grand finale it was, turning the ground white and blistering the flesh and drying the tongue, as it pinned enemy to enemy, stranger to stranger, desperation to opportunity, and opportunity to ambition.

Cad Bane looked to Embo one last time, and again Embo lifted his chin but for a split second.

That was when Bane understood what Embo had meant earlier at the grave. Embo glanced to Boba, who had turned to look right back at Bane head-on. In that moment, Bane saw Embo spring into action.

Embo's pistol flew into his hand as he drew and fired. Boba, who had been milliseconds from drawing and firing at Bane, turned to Embo. He was too late. Cad Bane, meanwhile, was frozen in place. He could only watch as a perfectly aimed blast struck Boba in the neck, a place not protected by helmet or armor. Embo shot the same spot again, then stopped, for Boba had already stopped breathing, and the young Fett's body fell down into the grave of Aren Sacul safe and sound. His last expression, his last thought, and his last word were never to be known by anyone else other than himself. All thanks to the fact that he was wearing a helmet.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Only one chapter left! Wow, it's flown by fast! Thank you all in advance to those who kindly read and reviewed my story. Stay tuned for another Star Wars fic to be announced very soon._


	11. Chapter the Eleventh

_"The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo"_

_Chapter the Eleventh (Final Chapter)_

* * *

When Bane had recovered from the shock, the first thing he said to Embo was,

"I'm never going to understand just how far ahead you plan these things."

Embo, who had originally been looking down at Boba's body, turned to Cad Bane.

"Apparently, you don't know me well. I don't plan any of it, really."

Bane ran to the stone, picked it up, and read the bottom, which was written in Basic. He looked up at Embo with confusion. "Wait a minute, this can't be right. You wrote _Unknown_."

"That is correct. Bahr Crevil told me the money was buried in a grave marked _Unknown_, next to the grave of Aren Sacul."

"I get it." With that, Bane tossed the rock over his shoulder and stifled a hearty laugh at the ingenuity of it all. He and Embo walked side by side over to the grave, where, sure enough, the marker read _Unknown _right next to _Aren Sacul_. A dead tree stood just above the grave. Bane dusted off his hands and grabbed Boba Fett's shovel. Moments from stabbing the earth with the shovel, Bane checked to see if Embo was doing the same. Oddly, he wasn't. Instead, Embo was pointing the same pistol that killed Boba Fett at Bane's back.

"Oh, no. You dig."

"So that's how it goes, doesn't it?"

"I said, _dig_." As a warning, Embo shot at the ground an inch from Bane's heel.

Bane jumped back, and had to hold down on his hat to keep it from falling off. Frowning, he grabbed the shovel and dug with much less enthusiasm than he thought he would have been. As he dug, he heard slight movement from the Kyuzo bounty hunter, but decided to focus on the job at hand rather than let Embo distract him.

The sun, wrapping up its grand finale, was at last sinking behind the furthest dunes of Geonosis, leaving the Badlands of N'g'zi to turn the color of blood and fire, as the light slowly drained like water from a drain.

When Bane had finished digging, he kicked off the lid just as Embo had done. His heart swelled in his chest so much he thought it would burst.

"Embo, by the Force. Look at all this cash!"

Ten...ten bags in total, filled up the unknown grave. Bane used the shovel to hack open the bag on the top of the pile. Stainless, clean, shiny gold credits spilled out, and for the first time in a long time, Bane laughed with genuine happiness and delight. He had to resist the temptation to bury his hands in the bag and grab handfuls of it at once. Instead, he wet the roof of his mouth and swallowed.

"It's all here, Embo! We're rich!"

There was no reply.

"...Embo? Come on, get over here or I'm taking it all for myself."

Bane looked up and his stomach turned cold.

"Embo...what are you doing?"

"Well, Bane, you know all those poor fellows back on Tatooine I scammed out of their money? Those fellows who wanted to see you hang? I'm going to even the score."

As Embo spoke, he tightened a knot along a long, thick rope, which formed a hangman's noose. He held up a gadget in one hand, on which he pushed a button that signaled a speeder bike on the other side of the cemetery to approach. Bane could only assume Embo had found the speeder bike and used it to get to the cemetery before. Embo used the bike to stand up and tie the other end of the rope on the branch. A chill ran up Bane's spine as this had been the last thing he expected from his old partner.

"You're not being serious, are you?" Bane asked, but he knew Embo was not one to waste time joking around.

"Listen, Bane. It's been fun, but I have my share of the money now. I'm leaving Geonosis, and I'll never come back."

"But we helped each other get here. You're not going to do this now after all we went through together."

"If things had gone your way, I would be lying next to Fett right now," Embo said coldly. "Now, listen. The Rebel refugees who fled from the village will be coming back to search for supplies and survivors. A few minutes after you left, I saw a band of them less than two miles away. They will be here before the sun has set. The trail your speeder left when it crashed will catch their interest. They will follow it here to the cemetery. When they find you, they will give you a proper burial. Even Rebels know better than to leave a body for the Geonosian's to dispose of."

"You wouldn't do this." Bane wanted to shout, but he discovered he could barely speak through his throat, which startled him. Was he choking up now? _Now_? When an old friend forced him to stare down the noose? Was this any worse than the firing squad?

"If they weren't coming, I would bury you myself." Embo pointed his blaster at him and gestured to the noose, and the grave marker standing right beneath it. He took off Bane's hat and laid it over five of the ten bags. "Now get up there."

"Damn you, _sleemo_," Bane spat.

"I'm simply doing what should have been done weeks ago. And I'm giving you a clean death. Who is the real _sleemo_ here?"

Barely able to speak, Bane did as he was told. He stood on top of the grave marker and Embo tightened the noose around his neck. Bane shut his eyes, as he could not stand looking down at all the credits lying only several feet away. As he stood as motionless as possible, he felt Embo bind his hands behind his back with a cord. Then Embo gave the noose a final tug before climbing off the speeder bike.

The sun had begun to set, and cast long death-shaped shadows across all of Sad Hill, sinking behind the towering walls of the canyon. Soon the cemetery would be void of any light, swallowed in the darkness of night.

Cad Bane cracked open one eye, and were he more free to move, he would have kick Embo in the back just out of spite. For Embo was taking half and only half of the money, tying them together with cords, and laying them against the back of the speeder bike. He was actually going to leave the other share lying on the ground beneath Bane's hat.

"You are one fucked up individual. Did anyone ever make that apparent to you?" Cad Bane asked.

"Are those your last words?" Embo retorted.

"No, actually, now that you mention it, I have a hell of a lot more to say to you. And seeing how I'll be dead in a couple minutes, I might as well say them right now just so you're aware of how fucked up you are."

"Goodbye, Bane," Embo said. He climbed onto the speeder bike and drove off away from the cemetery.

Bane watched him go, and felt even worse than before when he realized Embo was not turning around. Getting death over with could not have been worse than being left here to slowly strangle until the Geonosian's found him.

"I'm going to say it!" Bane shouted as loud as he could, just so Embo could hear him. The effort made his feet almost slip off the grave marker, and Bane had to regain his balance quickly. "You're nothing but a dirty, rotten, son of a bitch. I should have killed you when I had the chance. Are you listening to me?"

_Who the hell am I kidding? I guess it would have been nice if Embo turned out to be more of a trustworthy fellow than I am. Maybe I was just disappointed that he's the same. Disappointed that we're _both _dirty, rotten, sons of bitches. Oh well. The nice guys go first, anyway._

Nearly fifty feet off, he saw Embo stop, hop off the speeder bike, and turn around. He was making a motion. Bane recognized the motion immediately as a very similar one. Embo had done the very same thing when they first met, and he decapitated three greens in one sweep. He was raising one hand to grip the edge of his shield-hat. Bane could already see that disk-like weapon burying itself so deep in its chest it cut through his spine, or severing both his legs so that he could drop and hang like the dead man he was about to be. Apprehensive, he tried using his shoulders to loosen the noose so he could slip out, but it was pointless...Embo had foreseen such attempts. If he did anything else to loosen him, Bane risked slipping and breaking his own neck. All he could do was hold still, and pray that whatever form of execution was on Embo's mind would be quick and painless.

_Make it fast, old buddy, just make it fast, _Bane silently prayed what he believed was his last prayer. _I don't want the locals finishing me off the way they do. Don't let it drag out. If there's any part in you that isn't a dirty, rotten, son of a bitch, just let me get it over with and—_

He saw the shield-hat coming for him. Being a coward, Bane shut his eyes.

The weight from the rope gave out, and Bane felt himself fall forward into the grave marked _Unknown_. His face smacked against the remaining bags of credits and his hat, and red dirt filled his mouth. Bane rolled over onto his back. He watched the shield-hat spin around back to Embo, who caught it in his hand. When he had spat out all the dirt that he could, Bane shouted back to him one last time.

"What the fuck were you thinking, you bastard! The next time I see you, you're dead meat. Embo, you bastard!"

Cad Bane struggled at the cords binding his wrists, but like hell they were going to loosen anytime soon. Furious, he kicked and thrashed and tried to get up. Lying in a grave filled with five million credits, the Duros bounty hunter who had survived the Clone Wars could only lie, seethe, and wait for the Rebel refugees who may not even come.

Meanwhile, Embo, the Kyuzo with no past and a strengthening glimpse of a future with great promise, sped off toward the sunset. He left the looming canyons walls behind, the prison walls that surrounded a place marked with death-shaped shadows bearing nothing but names and rotting bones. Instead, he left himself wide open and free to the world beyond those prison walls and rotting bones. A world of danger, and excitement, and promise. A world where he may finally leave the violence behind in favor a place where he belonged, and this would be a place to cultivate rather than consume, a place to love rather than hate, a place to learn to live rather than learn to die. It was this place that the Kyuzo journeyed towards as nightfall rose on the system of Geonosis, and the Kyuzo could only hope that if he traveled far enough, heart open, then just maybe he would find it for himself.

So as he did when he thought he would die lying on the ground in the middle of the Jundland Wastes of Tatooine, the only thing he could take with him was hope. Hope that somewhere out there was the place he would be looking for.

Yes, hope. That was all he could do.

Night was beginning to fall, and the Geonosians were coming out to roam, but the Kyzuo bounty hunter had five million credits, his bowcaster, and eyes steady on the horizon. And that was good enough for him.

_End_

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I was literally laughing the entire time I wrote this sequence. When I first started writing this story, I was not sure how I wanted to end it...since I knew going with the original ending from the movie would mean Boba Fett has to die and Cad Bane makes a big fool of himself. But in the end I decided, hey, let Embo kill Boba and have some fun with Bane. It was actually very fun and hilarious to do, and I am rather pleased with how this little story turned out. After over two years of self-debating over if, how, and when to write a Star Wars version of "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" I am glad to finally see the end result. Once again thank you to everyone who read and reviewed._

_If you have read my other Star Wars TCW fics, you might like to know that I have a new chapter fic TBA shortly. In this fic I am going to be taking some of the elements I hinted at in this fic and explaining them in full detail. This includes my idea of how the bounty hunting pool changed following the Clone Wars, the conflict between "new" and "old" hunters, and the public's attitude towards them. I wrote about them here to start getting a feel for what it would be like. So if you liked those things in "The Good, the Bad, and the Sleemo", perhaps you would enjoy reading about them in a much more serious, large-scope setting._

_I have said too much already...hope to see you soon!_


End file.
